Death Came and Got Me (or Epiphany)
by endercard
Summary: Sequel to My Sweetest Downfall. Rick and Daryl are still together, and as strong as they ever were. But something happens to change all of that, and they are thrown into a world full of chaos and death as they search for one another.
1. Cause when it's over, it's all over

**Sequel to My Sweetest Downfall**

***I own nothing**

Chapter One- Cause when it's over, it's all over, and what you gain you throw away

Rick, Daryl, and Merle were out hunting. Or, Rick liked to think of it that way. In reality, Merle was out hunting, and Daryl was attempting to show Rick how to walk quietly in the woods.

It wasn't going all that well, to be honest.

Daryl was a great teacher, very patient, but everyone had their limits. When they lost a deer because Rick stepped on a branch: that was Daryl's limit.

"Dammit, Rick, you gotta step on every fuckin' branch out here or somethin'? You tryin' to starve us?" he asked, exasperated.

Rick rolled his eyes. "Starve us? We got food at the cabin, Daryl, we're not livin' off the stuff we catch. Don't be so dramatic. It was an accident."

Daryl shook his head, turning to walk further into the woods. "Boy born and raised in Georgia should be able to hunt. 's all I'm sayin'," he grumbled to himself.

Rick smirked at him. "Well, what can I say? We all have our talents, but this ain't one of mine."

Daryl cracked a smile at that, but didn't turn around. He hoisted his crossbow up higher on his shoulder when he heard the crackle of leaves moving, but lowered it again when he determined it was just the breeze. "Come on. We'll go 'bout another hour, then head back."

"Alright," Rick said, and followed him.

No matter how many times Daryl brought him up to the small cabin he and Merle retreated to on occasion, Rick never really got the hang of hunting. And he couldn't track for shit, as Daryl put it.

But he enjoyed his time there, nonetheless. But, more than anything, he enjoyed the happiness it brought to his better half.

When Daryl had lived with his father, hunting wasn't something he could do much. Especially not after Merle was put away. If he were gone for more than a day, his dad would become even more violent than usual. When Merle was there, he could deflect some of it, and take most of it on himself.

But the only time Daryl had gone hunting after Merle was locked up, he came back and nearly had him arm broken by his old man. He decided then to cut his losses, as he'd explained to Rick.

After he moved into Rick's parent's house in high school, he didn't mention hunting for a while. Too much was going on, and he honestly didn't know how they felt about it. They could have hated hunting, and he didn't want to jeopardize anything. After they graduated, and Rick and Daryl moved away so Rick could go to school, he'd come home one day to find a note on the kitchen counter. 'Gone hunting. Be back tomorrow. Don't worry.'

Rick was frantic, of course, because he had no idea what Daryl meant, really. They didn't own a gun, or anything, really, to hunt with, and he didn't even know Daryl hunted. He'd never mentioned it before.

When he got back the next day, dirty and carrying a line of squirrels over one shoulder, but peaceful in a way that Rick had rarely seen, he'd decided not to pry. So Daryl hunted. Apparently it brought him some relief.

He was curious, though, and had to ask Daryl how he'd caught the game. When his boyfriend had casually said he'd gotten them with his knife, Rick was too shocked to speak.

And, for some unfathomable reason, too turned on to wait. He'd grabbed Daryl and thrown him into the shower, and then he'd been fucked up against the wall, their bodies slick and wet.

That had been a good day.

Now that they were back home, Daryl hunted whenever he could schedule time off for himself from work. And whenever he could, Rick did the same.

Merle came along this time, as he said he hadn't been hunting in months and was itching to go again. He didn't seem to realize that the other two men used this time to do other activities as well until he'd caught them making eyes at each other over the breakfast table.

"Aw, hell. I'll sleep out in the woods tonight, you love birds. Don't wanna see any more o' that shit." And then he'd stormed off, a bag of supplies over his shoulder and a shotgun in his hand.

They had the cabin to themselves tonight, then.

After Daryl had determined that there weren't any more deer nearby, and he'd caught a few more squirrels, he and Rick made their way back. Daryl laughed every time Rick cracked a stick under his boot, and was often rewarded with a playful shove.

After dinner, Rick watched Daryl drinking a beer by the fire, and was mesmerized by the flicker of the light against his pale skin. Rick was always the paler of the two, but Daryl wasn't exactly tan for a country boy. His hair shone in the natural light, and Rick swallowed and shifted in his seat, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight.

"See somethin' ya like, Grimes?" Daryl asked with a smirk.

Rick didn't even bother to answer. He just stood from the couch, put Daryl's beer on the table, and pulled his lover up by the wrist.

Rick led Daryl to their bedroom, brimming with anticipation at their first chance to make love in over a week. Time together was a precious thing, with Daryl's hours lengthening at the garage and Rick's job as a deputy lessening their time together.

Rick intended to make the most of their time, now.

Daryl came up behind him and pressed himself against Rick's back. He wrapped his arms around Rick's waist and pulled them closer, and Rick leaned his head back on Daryl's shoulder, angling his head for a kiss. Daryl obliged him happily.

Rick pulled back and smiled at him, and Daryl sighed. "Fuck, Grimes, I've missed you."

Rick turned in his embrace and wrapped his arms around Daryl's neck. "Same here. Now get naked, Dixon."

Daryl raised an eyebrow, amused. "You playin' cop?"

Rick's face was deadly serious as he said, "I don't have to play at anythin'." And then he couldn't hold in his laughter.

Daryl smirked at him, and started walking Rick backwards to the bed. "How d'you want it?"

Rick bit his lip, considering, and ran his hands over Daryl's firm chest and shoulders, then stroked around to his back. "I wanna see you ridin' me."

Daryl groaned, and kissed Rick soundly, before muttering, "Fuck, Grimes, you always know just what t'say, dontcha?"

Rick laughed, and started pulling Daryl's shirt off over his head. Daryl helped by stripping his jeans and boots off. When he looked up from pulling his pants off his leg, he observed Rick's fully clothed form and raised an eyebrow.

"Well? Need help or somethin'?"

Rick nodded, his eyes hungry as they roamed Daryl's naked form. He'd filled out so nicely over the years, and Rick could never get his fill of just looking at him. His pale skin and dark hair, and muscled torso were like a siren call to Rick's libido.

Daryl ripped Rick's shirt off his shoulders without undoing the buttons, and Rick's eyes bulged. "Hey! My mom gave me this!"

"You really wanna talk abou' Beth righ' now?" Daryl murmured, and Rick gulped and shook his head. Daryl's voice was taking on that dark, raspy quality that came out when he was aroused, and it always made Rick's prick jump in interest. This time was no exception.

Daryl unbuttoned Rick's jeans and slid them down his legs. Before Rick could help divest himself of his pants, Daryl pushed him onto the bed, and Rick bounced slightly as his ass hit the mattress. Daryl knelt in front of him and pulled off one boot, then the other. He tugged Rick's socks off one at a time, and planted a kiss on each of Rick's feet at they were revealed, making him shiver.

Then, at last, he jerked Rick's jeans off, and in one quick movement, pushed him back on the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling Rick's hips. Rick pushed his head back up so he could capture Daryl's lips in a kiss, and Daryl devoured his mouth hungrily. His tongue delved into Rick's mouth, and Rick sucked on it eagerly.

Rick's hands lifted to run over Daryl's hips to guide him closer so their cocks would meet. Daryl reached a hand down and grasped both of their pricks in one hand and stroked them together. Rick broke the kiss to arch his bead back in pleasure. The feeling of Daryl's cock, like steel wrapped in silk, pressed against his was pure heaven.

Rick let go of one of Daryl's hips to run his hand up, up Daryl's body to his mouth, where he sucked in two of Rick's fingers eagerly, swirling his tongue around them and wetting them. Rick moaned at the feeling, and he couldn't fucking wait any longer, so he dropped his hand and pushed on Daryl's hip to indicate that he needed to get off.

Daryl let go of their pricks and moved off of Rick to rest on his hands and knees beside him. Rick groaned at the sight, and quickly ran to the nightstand to grab the lube. He saturated the fingers that Daryl had sucked on, and then trailed his wet hand down Daryl's spine, and to the top of his ass, where he gently rubbed his hand back and forth, teasing.

"Fuck, Grimes, just do it!" Daryl grunted, lowering his head onto the bed, so his ass stuck up in the air. Rick's salivated at the sight, and he moved quickly to kneel behind Daryl. He pressed one finger against Daryl's hole to make sure he was relaxed before pushing it all the way in. Both of them groaned at the feeling, and Daryl pushed back against his finger, eager for more.

Rick gave it to him. Without wasting any more time, he pushed in a second finger, and scissored them to open Daryl's hole wider before pushing in a third. Daryl was thrusting back more forcefully now, and Rick felt around until he found Daryl's prostate.

He nudged it, and Daryl went wild. He let out a howl and his legs shook beneath him, and Rick couldn't stand to wait any longer.

He slicked his hand up with more lube and gave his cock a few quick strokes, before pushing on Daryl's hip again. "Remember what I said I want?" he asked, his voice gravely.

Daryl looked at him over his shoulder, and nodded quickly. He sat up, and manhandled Rick to the head of the mattress, before straddling him again. He grabbed Rick's cock in his hand, lined himself up, and thrust down, hard.

Rick's head banged against the headboard, and his eyes were closed, but he felt Daryl's breath tickle his neck as the man leaned in to lick a stripe up his neck. He lifted himself off of Rick only to drop back down, twisting his hips deliciously and riding Rick hard.

Just like he'd wanted.

Rick had Daryl's hips in a bruising grip, and he began thrusting up into Daryl sweet, hot body, groans escaping his mouth freely.

He grabbed Daryl's cock and stroked it fast and hard, loving the reaction it wrought from the man. Daryl sucked hard on Rick's neck, his tongue darting out to taste Rick's sweat, and he dropped his body harder, faster, whimpering sounds leaving his mouth that drove Rick wild.

Rick felt his orgasm building, and he let go of Daryl's cock to pull him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. Daryl let go of his neck and instead put his mouth against Rick's, kissing him passionately. He pressed his chest to Rick's and their sweat made their bodies easy to glide against.

Rick's senses were on overload; Daryl's scent, his skin, his fucking beautiful cock was rubbing against both of their stomachs. Rick came hard into Daryl, breaking their kiss to drop his head to Daryl's shoulder. He bit the skin under his mouth until he tasted blood, and Daryl groaned hard, thrusting once more, before he came over both of their stomachs.

He rode out his orgasm on Rick's cock, stopping only when he seemed to be too tired to continue. He laid his head on top on Rick's and breathed him in, his nose in Rick's hair.

"Fuck, Daryl. You're so fuckin' gorgeous," Rick murmured into his shoulder, which he was licking and sucking as an apology for biting him so hard.

Daryl chuckled. "Right back atcha." He lifted a leg off of Rick and swung his body off of him so he was sitting beside him in the bed. He sighed heavily and leaned his head back on the headboard, his eyes closed.

Rick was opening his mouth to ask if his shoulder hurt when his phone rang.

His work phone. Fuck.

He scrambled off the bed, knowing he wouldn't be getting a call unless it was an emergency, shooting an apologetic grimace to Daryl before pulling the phone out of his discarded pants pocket and flipping it open.

"Grimes," he said perfunctorily.

"Rick, we've got a situation at the Wheeler house, we need you to check it out. Got a call from the neighbors sayin' they heard shoutin' or somethin'" he heard Stacy say, and he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"Am I the only one available? I have time off tonight."

"Sorry, hun. You're it. Got the other boys out at a liquor store robbery and drug bust. Plus, we know where ya are, and yer the closest," she answered, sympathy in her voice.

"Dammit. Alright, I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut, and he ran a hand over his forehead and through his hair. He could already feel a headache coming.

"What's goin' on?" Daryl asked, his face blank. Rick shrugged, and walked back to the bed, still naked. He sat next to Daryl, who was watching him with wary eyes.

"I'm so fuckin' sorry, Daryl, but I gotta go," Rick apologized, and Daryl nodded.

"Figured. I could hear your side o' the conversation you know," Daryl said a little testily.

"I know, I just… fuck, I don't wanna go, Daryl. I understand if you're mad, but I wouldn't go if I had any other choice," Rick pleaded, sick at the thought that he was ruining their night.

Daryl's face softened marginally, but it was enough. Rick knew he was forgiven. "I know. Don't worry 'bout it. How many times have I come home to a cold dinner 'cause I stayed late without tellin' ya?" He leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Rick's lips. "Go on. But hurry back, y'hear?"

Rick smiled at him, and pushed Daryl's hair back from his face so he could see his eyes better. "Fuck, I love you so much. This is killin' me."

Daryl chuckled. "Your boss is gonna kill you, unless you get yer ass dressed and out the door."

Rick nodded, knowing he was right. He planted a kiss on Daryl's lips, then stood and left the room to grab his uniform out of his bag. He always packed one, just in case. He dressed quickly and pulled on his gun belt before running back to the bedroom.

Daryl was on top of the covers, lying back with his hands behind his head, and Rick went over to kiss him goodbye—he could never get enough of his mouth—and grabbed his keys from the nightstand.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said.

Daryl smirked, and brought a hand down to his now limp cock, giving it a quick stroke. Rick groaned, and walked out the door before he convinced himself that he really didn't like his job that much.

"You kill me, Daryl!" he yelled, opening the front door.

He heard a laugh before he pulled it closed.

Rick arrived at the Wheeler farm ten minutes later, and he quickly stopped the car and got out, hand resting casually on the gun on his belt. He began walking to the front door, eyes scanning his surroundings, until a sound made him stop in his tracks.

It sounded like a woman, screaming.

Rick quickly drew his gun and closed the distance to the front door. He tried the knob, and it twisted under his hand. He pushed the door open and scanned the area, unable to see anyone.

"This is Deputy Rick Grimes, I'm with the Sheriff's Department," he called as he stepped inside. He walked down the hallway towards the screaming, which sounded more like sobbing now, and turned the corner into what looked like the living room.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Mrs. Wheeler was kneeling next to the body of her husband, who had been shot in the head. His arm was wrapped in gauze as well, but that looked to be an older injury. Rick's instinct was to check for his vitals, but he knew there was no need. He was dead.

Rick scanned Mrs. Wheeler's form and saw that she was bleeding from her shoulder, and there looked to be a pretty nasty wound there. It almost looked like a bite mark. Was she attacked by an animal?

Deciding that there were more pressing matters to deal with, Rick scanned the room, looking for the gun that killed Mr. Wheeler, and found it under the couch. He grabbed it, and put his own gun away, before kneeling in front of Mrs. Wheeler, who was rocking back and forth and sobbing, heartbroken or in shock. Probably both, Rick thought.

"Mrs. Wheeler," he said, his voice level and calm. Her breath hitched, and she looked up at him through her wet lashes. "What happened here?"

She gasped, and buried her face in her hands, continuing her rocking motions. "H-he.. he's dead! I killed him, I-I di-didn't have a… choice, he was…" she broke off her stilted explanation to sob harder.

Rick stood quickly and turned his back so he could call for backup on his radio. Stacy let him know more patrols and a coroner would be arriving in ten minutes, so he turned back to Mrs. Wheeler.

"Ma'am," he said softly. "May I help you up? Come on, let's get you outta this room." He offered his hand, and she hesitantly gazed at it before nodding minutely. He moved forward and helped her stand, before leading her into the next room, which turned out to be the dining room.

He led her to the table, and she sat down on shaky legs. Her breathing was fast, but she was alert, and her sobs weren't as severe.

"Are you hurt, ma'am?" he asked, indicating her shoulder.

She nodded, and kept her gaze on the table. "H-he bit me," she said in a sort of trance-like way. "He bit me!"

Rick's brow furrowed, and he shook his head to clear it. "Your husband? Do you mean Mr. Wheeler bit you? This bite here, on your shoulder?"

Rick knew he was asking redundant questions, but damn, he had to make sure. That was one nasty bite to come from a human. She nodded quickly, her eyes a bit glazed over.

"Was he acting strangely before that, ma'am?" he asked, and pulled out his pad to write all of this down for the investigator who would be taking over the homicide case. He didn't know if she would be this coherent later, so he figured he should get her story now.

She nodded again, and began to speak slowly. "He said… he said on his way home, someone tr-tried to mug him. Said the guy bit his arm and... I saw the bite, said he should get it… checked out, but… he wouldn't. He wouldn't! He didn't listen!" She was yelling now, and Rick knew he needed to calm her down.

He crouched down in front of her, and put on his most understanding expression. "It's alright Mrs. Wheeler, I'm sure you did everything you could to convince him. Did he get angry at you, or…" He trailed off so she could take over.

She shook her head and met his eyes, which were on level with hers now. "He got s-sick. Fevered, you know? And then… he was in pain, and I kept tryin' to get him to let me call an ambulance, but h-he said… he didn't want a hospital, that it was just the flu, but… I ain't never seen a flu move so fast." She sniffed, her eyes wide, and continued. "He… died. That's the only way I can describe it. He was in bed, and he stopped breathin'. He laid like that for about ten minutes, I think."

Rick shook his head. What the hell? "He died."

She nodded again, her expression earnest. "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm tellin' you, he weren't alive no more. I felt fer his breath, I did CPR, I… nothin' worked. So I sat and cried over him, and just as I was gettin' up to call 911, he… moved. His eyes opened, but they were strange. My Earl's always had brown eyes, but they were a light blue, and he was actin'… strange. Like an animal or somethin'. And he…"

Rick watched her expression patiently. "What did he do, Mrs. Wheeler? Is that when he attacked you?"

She nodded, her eyes wide and frightened. "He… grabbed me, and he bit down on my shoulder. God, it hurt. I fought him, and ran through the house. I didn't plan on shootin' him, I swear! I was hopin' the gun would bring 'im to his senses but he just kept… comin'…" She broke down in sobs, unable to continue.

Rick reached up and patted her shoulder. "It'll be alright, Mrs. Wheeler. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He heard the sirens and stood up to greet them at the door. After the lead investigator showed up, Rick was told to go back to the Sheriff's Department and fill out his report. He watched as paramedics put Mrs. Wheeler into the back of an ambulance to take her to the hospital, with an officer escort, of course, as she was a suspect in a homicide.

Watching her frightened face brought back what she'd said about Mr. Wheeler, and he realized that he had to see one thing before he could go.

He walked into the living room, where the coroner was examining the body and the tech team was taking photos of the surroundings. Rick stepped just close enough that he could see the blood around the man's mouth, which he hadn't noticed before.

He also hadn't seen that his eyes were partially open. And that they were, in fact, an ice blue color. Rick shuddered, unnerved with this whole situation.

And then he left.

Rick sat at his desk and pulled out a report to fill out. This case was shaking him, and he took a moment to breathe steadily before he attempted to write anything.

What the hell was going on?

Deciding he needed some reassurances before he started, Rick picked up the phone and dialed Daryl's cell phone. It rang twice, and then he heard Daryl's drowsy voice over the line.

"'lo? Rick?" he asked. Rick smiled into the phone.

"Sorry I woke you, sweetheart. Jus' wanted to hear your voice. Go back to sleep."

He could hear Daryl shifting around in bed. "Don' be an idiot, Grimes. You ain't callin' just to hear me talk. What's wrong?"

Rick shook his head, realizing he shouldn't have tried to fool Daryl. He'd learned over the years that it's fruitless. "Just this case. Can't really talk about it, but it just shook me up a bit. I'm just finishin' up my report, then I can head back to the cabin."

There was a beat of silence, and Rick could see in his mind's eye as Daryl's protective instincts and his common sense warred. He knew he could get the story out of Rick, but also knew he'd do it quicker if he could see him in person.

He also knew that he'd only see Rick if he hung up and let him work.

Rick smiled as he heard Daryl sigh in resignation. "Alrigh'. But don't go to the cabin, 'cause I ain't there. Left shortly after you did, figured I'd see more o' you if I came back into town."

Rick smiled into the phone. "God, I love you, Daryl."

"Love ya, too. Now get to work and come the fuck home."

Rick heard the click as the line disconnected, and slowly put down his phone.

Then he got to work. He wanted to get home so he could see Daryl.

Daryl came awake in an instant when he heard the front door open. He listened carefully, and relaxed his body when he recognized Rick's steady walk.

When the bedroom door opened, Daryl turned onto his back and watched though the darkness as Rick moved closer to the bed, throwing his clothes off onto the floor. Rick crawled into the bed, and into Daryl's arms, his naked form pressed against Daryl's.

The skin-to-skin contact was comforting for both of them. Daryl eased Rick up some so he could pull the comforter out from under them and cover them both. Rick snuggled back down into Daryl's chest and sighed.

"Wanna talk about it?" Daryl asked, his voice gravely with sleep.

Rick shook his head against Daryl. "Nah. Tomorrow. Let's just go to sleep."

Daryl nodded against Rick's hair and breathed in the scent of him. He always smelled minty, and earthy, and just so damn good that Daryl had dreams about how he smelled. Though it could be that he just smelled him while he slept.

Daryl hugged the man to him more closely, and pushed one of his legs between both of Rick's so the man was draped across him.

The weight was comforting in a way that Daryl couldn't describe, and never tried to. But he was finally able to fall into a restful sleep.

**So there it is, the first chapter to the sequel! It'll pick up in pace soon, so don't worry!**

**Thank you for reading, and please review!**


	2. I smoke the whole thing to my head

**Drama begins!** ***I own nothing**

Chapter Two—I smoke the whole thing to my head and feel it wash away

Daryl groaned when he heard Rick's phone ring. Fucking hell, couldn't a guy get a decent night's sleep?

What time was it anyway? As Rick answered the phone, Daryl craned his neck up to see the clock on the nightstand. 6:30.

Fuck.

Daryl sat up and watched as Rick paced the room.

"What?" Rick barked. "Yeah, Thompson Memorial? How long ago did it start?" Rick bent down to grab his pants, and that's when Daryl knew something was seriously wrong.

Rick was going to put on his clothes from yesterday instead of running to the laundry room, where a clean uniform was hanging up. Rick never did that, he was too conscious of looking professional to wear a dirty uniform.

Daryl got out of bed and pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt. He sat down on the bed to pull on some socks and his boots, listening as Rick's voice rose in anxiety.

He'd just tied his second boot and stood up when Rick clicked the phone shut. "What're you doin'?" Rick asked, voice sharp. He'd just snapped his gun belt around his waist.

"Comin' with you, what the fuck's it look like. What's goin' on?"

Rick shook his head and started for the front door, grabbing his keys off the counter on his way out. "You can't some, Daryl, it's a police matter."

Daryl scoffed. "Don't use your cop voice on me, Grimes." He walked to his bike as Rick pulled open the door on his cruiser. Rick squinted at him, considering. He knew they were wasting time, and he also knew that short of shooting Daryl, he wasn't gonna stop him from following him.

"Hospital. Somethin' bad," Rick said shortly, and Daryl nodded. He pulled on his helmet and started the engine, enjoying the rumbling underneath him. Damn, he loved having a bike of his own. He pulled out of the driveway and followed Rick to the hospital.

When he got there, he wished they'd both stayed in bed. He felt like he was in a nightmare.

The street was swarming with people. There were cop and sheriff cars lining the street, and people were shooting at only God knew what. Daryl wasn't in a good position to see yet, but he could hear all right.

He heard people screaming, and he could see them after they reached the cars, some of them bloody, all of them petrified. Nurses, doctors, and patients alike were running from some foe that Daryl couldn't see.

Rick parked in the middle of the street and Daryl did the same, but stayed on his bike. He watched as Rick went up to one of the other deputies and started gesturing wildly, obviously asking what the fuck was going on. The deputy just shook his head and went back to shooting.

Daryl took advantage of his smaller vehicle to weave closer to the chaos. He's just gotten close enough to see the front of the hospital, and carnage met his eyes.

There were bodies everywhere. What the fuck was going on? Was he still dreaming?

Daryl pinched his leg, and fuck, that hurt, so no, this was real.

He spotted a woman pushing the front doors of the hospital open and start running for the cop cars, screaming all the way. Halfway there, a man lurched towards her, and this man was like something Daryl had never seen. Half of his face was gone. His teeth and jawbone were exposed, and his gray, mottled skin was hanging off of his bones.

Rick apparently saw her, too, because he started to run for her.

Fucking hero, Daryl thought, panic rising in him. He had to get Rick out of there. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew it bad.

Real fucking bad.

Daryl revved his bike, keeping an eye on Rick as he moved through the vehicles to get to an opening. He needed to get onto the grass, that's where Rick was.

At that moment, Rick got to the lady, gun drawn, and shouted at the man. As Rick and Daryl both watched, the man bent down over the woman and tore a chunk out of her neck. Blood spewed everywhere, and she screamed in agony. Rick shot the man, point blank, in the chest.

Daryl felt relief go through his system for a split second, before it changed to horror.

The man didn't even fall down, just jerked back from the impact of the bullet, and then kept on coming. But this time he had a new target. He dropped the woman- who had stopped screaming and just laid there, probably dead- and moved forward.

Towards Rick.

Daryl let out a groan of frustration as Rick continued shooting him and the man kept coming.

At last, Daryl drove his bike onto the grass and sped toward Rick as fast as he could. The man reached forward to grasp Rick's wrist, his mouth following, probably to take a chunk out of his flesh. Thinking only of saving Rick, Daryl hit him with his bike at full speed. The man went flying, and so did Daryl.

He hit the ground with a thud, and all the air left his body.

"Daryl!" Rick shouted, and he kept his gun trained on the walking dead man, who was at last prone on the ground, as he ran to Daryl.

He checked him over for injuries, but Daryl just shrugged him off. "'m fine, Rick. Help me up."

Rick reluctantly grabbed his hand and pulled, and Daryl came to his feet.

"What the hell were you thinkin'?" Rick screamed at him, and Daryl saw the worry in his eyes, so he reigned in his temper. "You coulda been killed!"

Daryl shook his head. "You were about to be. Don't give a damn 'bout myself as long as yer safe."

Daryl turned his back on Rick's stricken face as he scanned the area. The cops were still shooting, and they needed to get out of here before they were hit by friendly fire. It almost killed him to do it, but Daryl left his bike behind as he grabbed Rick's hand and pulled him away from the massacre around them.

He took one last glance at his bike, and saw the dead man's face had been pushed in from being run over by the wheel.

The hunter in Daryl automatically filed away this information. And then he ran, Rick by his side.

Rick led Daryl back to his cruiser, and they climbed in.

"What the hell is goin' on, Rick?" Daryl asked, trying to make sense of what they just saw. What Daryl just did.

Rick shook his head, thinking hard. "The call I went to yesterday? The wife had killed her husband, shot him point blank. Thing is… she said he'd already died, and that he'd… well, that he'd come back to life."

Daryl gaped at him, and then his face changed to something like amusement. He snorted. "You tryin' te tell me we're dealin' with zombies, chief?"

Rick met his eyes seriously, and Daryl sobered. Rick looked back out the window as he turned onto their street. He noticed that the houses in their subdivision were full of people packing their cars, and loading suitcases in their trunks. Daryl watched them as they drove past.

Rick pulled into their driveway and put the car in park, but he didn't turn it off.

Daryl looked at him with disbelief written on his face. "Oh, fuck no, Grimes. You ain't goin' back out there, are you?"

Rick nodded, his face weary. "I have to, Daryl. Whether I can help or not, it's my job to try."

Daryl slammed his hand angrily against the dashboard, and Rick flinched. "Nah, yer job is to stay alive. Don't go. Please."

Rick's expression was close to that of heartbreak, and he looked down at his hands, biting his lip. "Just… just give me an hour, Daryl. Just an hour!" he repeated as Daryl opened his mouth to interrupt. "Then I'll meet you back here, and we'll figure out what to do. Alright?"

Daryl nodded reluctantly. Rick was a lot like him sometimes. If he got something in his head, it was hard as hell to get it out. It was in Rick's nature to help, and Daryl knew if he weren't careful, he'd die because of his kindness.

"I'm gonna head to the garage, gather anythin' we might need, then come back here. You better be back in hour, or so help me, Grimes, I'll track your ass down," Daryl said, his face grave. "An' you know I can do it, too."

Rick nodded soberly, and kissed Daryl's lips quickly. Daryl kissed him back, lingering just a moment, before pulling away and opening the car door. He stepped out and glanced over his shoulder at Rick, who was watching him.

Daryl sent him a small smile and Rick returned it. Then Daryl watched Rick back out, and drive away.

Daryl drove his old truck to the shop. As he stepped out onto the pavement, his mind was on the other person that was usually here with him: Merle. Daryl figured the man didn't know what the hell was going on, and he knew he could take care of himself, but damn. Zombies?

No one could really be prepared for that.

Upon entering the garage, he saw only one of his employees, the assistant manager, Billy, who was nervously rubbing his hands together and looking like he had a squirrel in his pants with his fidgeting.

Daryl sent him home, then closed and locked the doors.

He turned the radio on as he gathered his best tools and anything else that might be useful if they had to run for it. His thoughts returned to his brother, who wasn't planning on coming back for a few more days. He liked to hunt for almost a week at a time, get lost in the woods. He was most relaxed out there.

Daryl kept one ear on the radio as he grabbed some extra flashlights and batteries, matches, and the guns he and Merle had locked in the cupboard in case of an emergency. As he filled up the duffel bags he'd brought, the radio caught his attention and he listened carefully.

_-reports have indicated that there are shelters being assembled in some of the major cities that were less affected by this virus. In a press interview earlier today, Governor Nathan Deal urged citizens that are able to go to Atlanta for safe haven. Again, Atlanta will be safe from this virus, and we are urging anyone in Georgia who can make it to come now-_

Daryl packed faster, and ran to his truck. He had to get home.

Rick pulled out of his driveway, leaving Daryl behind. A large part of him was screaming that he was making a mistake. But he wanted to help, so he started driving towards the Sheriff's Department.

Before he could get out of his subdivision, however, his phone rang. It was his personal cell, not his work, and he grabbed for it quickly. He picked it up from his glove compartment and flipped it open. It was his parent's house.

"Hello?" he asked, urgently.

"Rick?" his dad's anxious voice sounded through the phone. "Thank God. We've been trying to get through for hours, but so many people are calling out, and… listen Rick, we need your help."

Rick felt his heart flutter in panic. "What's wrong? Is it Mom?"

"No, your mom's fine. It's Carl, son. He was supposed to drive home from school last night, but he never showed up. We haven't been able to reach him on his phone, but we talked to his roommate, who said he left yesterday at noon. He should be home, Rick." The worry in his voice was palpable.

Rick pulled into the Sheriff's Department's parking lot and turned off the car. His mind was reeling with the news that his brother could be in danger, and all thoughts of sticking around to help out vanished from his mind. "I'm gonna put an APB out on his car, but I don't know if anything'll come of it, with all of this chaos. Have you heard the news, Dad?"

He heard a sigh over the line. "Yeah, and it's not looking good. The governor said we should all head to Atlanta for shelter, so maybe Carl is still there? But his roommate didn't mention it, so… I don't know, son. Should we just go look for him ourselves?"

Rick nodded, though his dad couldn't see him. "I think that's our only choice at this point. I'll head home after I put out the APB and get Daryl, then I'll swing by your house, alright? Get started on packing."

His dad let out a humorless laugh. "Your mom's been packed for hours. She started when the reports said the virus was uncontainable."

Rick huffed. "That's Mom. Ok, well, I'll see you soon. Keep your doors locked and stay inside until I get there."

"We will, son. Stay safe."

"You too." Rick hung up the phone and ran to the door of the large brick building. Inside, it was pandemonium. People were crying, and screaming, and the deputies were shouting at them to calm down, that they could only help everyone if they remained calm.

Rick slipped past them and did what he came to do. He put an alert out so that any officers who spot Carl's vehicle would know to contact the Sheriff's Department.

Then he got the hell out of there.

Rick pulled into his driveway and darted out of his car. He spotted someone ambling down the street as he was running up the pathway, and one look showed Rick that he was one of those… things. He was dead, but walking.

Rick opened the door and stepped inside, coming face to face with a mess. Daryl was apparently pulling together the things they'd need already, and appeared to have uprooted the house in the process.

Rick stepped over the pile of clothes on the floor and walked to the bedroom, where he could hear Daryl rooting around. He found him in the closet, pulling out his shotgun and Rick's old handgun.

"Back early," Daryl muttered, and Rick nodded as the man turned around. He hadn't thought for a second that Daryl didn't know he was behind him. He'd never startled Daryl, not once in all their time together.

"Carl's missing. We have to go get him," Rick said without preamble, and Daryl looked up from checking the shotgun, surprise in his eyes.

"What d'you mean, he's missing?" Daryl asked. His hand rose and he started nervously chewing on the skin around his thumb.

"He was supposed to be home last night, but he never showed. Roommate says he left at noon yesterday. Somethin's wrong," Rick answered, and Daryl's brow furrowed as he thought about this. Then he shook his head, his face downturned.

"Can't go with ya, Rick. I hafta get Merle. He don't even know what's goin' on, he's up there in the woods. He could get… attacked by one of them things and not even know to protect himself until it's too late," Daryl said, his expression torn.

Rick's face fell, and his world came to a screeching halt. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Could he make his parents put his search on hold while Daryl looked for his brother? But it could take a while for him to find Merle, as the man stayed in the woods, not at the cabin, more often than not.

And what if Carl was hurt? What if one of those… things tried to get him? He wasn't armed; he didn't know what to do. And if Rick sent his parents ahead of him, they weren't exactly equipped to deal with the creatures either.

Rick had to leave him. He had to leave Daryl. How had it come to this?

"Oh, fuck," Rick said, despair creeping into his voice. Daryl nodded, and moved closer to him. He threw the guns on the bed and pulled Rick into his embrace.

"We'll head to Atlanta after I find him, that's where everyone's sayin' we should go. We'll meet you there, alright?" Daryl said softly into his ear, his calm, reassuring voice not working the magic that it usually did.

Because Rick's gut was telling him that there was no way it would be that simple.

He clutched Daryl to him tighter, and didn't even try to fight the tears that gathered in his eyes. He buried his head into Daryl's shoulder, his fingers digging into the man's strong back, and held on.

Daryl kissed his cheek, then pulled back to kiss his tears away. His own eyes were red-rimmed and worried, and Rick felt a weight on his heart that he knew would only be lifted the moment they were together again, safe.

"We'll be fine, sweetheart. All of us. You gotta believe that," Daryl whispered to him, and Rick nodded, his eyes dry. He leaned his head against Daryl's for a moment, eyes closed. Then he took a deep, fortifying breath.

"I do, Daryl. I believe it," he answered, his voice wavering only slightly. He kissed Daryl hard, and pressed his tongue into the man's mouth urgently, desperate for his taste. Daryl kissed him back passionately, holding Rick to his chest and running his hands up and down Rick's back soothingly. The two sensations were so disparate, but so Daryl, that Rick sobbed once before getting control of his emotions again.

Daryl broke the kiss and stepped away, but kept a hold of Rick's wrist to pull him to the front door. "I've got your bags packed. Thought it'd be best to take both cars, so most of your stuff is in your jeep, but some of it got mixed up in the truck. Let's sort it out, then we can head out."

Rick nodded, and followed Daryl resolutely. They could do this. This was them, for God's sake. Daryl could hunt like no one else he'd ever met, and was a better shot than Rick. And Rick wasn't too shabby with a gun himself.

They could do this.

Daryl quickly sorted the bags out and handed Rick his old handgun, grip end first. Rick took it and tossed it through the open jeep door onto the driver's seat, and turned back to the love of his life.

He would see him again, alive and well. He was determined to.

There was no other fathomable outcome.

Daryl ran a hand through Rick's hair and pulled him into a chaste kiss. Rick held onto his shirt with one hand, holding on as tight as he could, and with the other, he stroked Daryl's stubbled cheek. They separated, and Rick kept his tears at bay. He had to be strong.

They could do this.

Rick watched as Daryl rounded his jeep and walked to his own truck. He sat in the driver's seat and closed the door, then waved at Rick one last time before pulling out and driving away.

Rick felt his heart go with him.

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	3. I can't, I can't stop crying

Chapter Three- I can't, I can't stop crying

Rick drove towards his parent's house, trying to keep it together. He couldn't believe he'd just left Daryl. What if something happened? What if he was attacked, and he was alone?

He hit the steering wheel in frustration, hard enough to make his hand throb. But he didn't care. He relished the pain. It distracted him.

As Rick turned into his old subdivision, he heard a noise that sounded odd, so he looked out his window. What he saw made him slam on his brakes.

There were helicopters landing a few blocks over. It looked, from here, like they were going to the hospital. Had help arrived?

Rick started driving again, faster now, trying to get to his parents so they could get out of here. Part of him wanted to find out what was going on at the hospital, but he knew if the copters were there to help, they wouldn't be transporting healthy civilians. They had to have landed at the hospital for a purpose.

What other reason could there be?

No, he and his parents were on their own. It was up to them to find Carl and then get to Atlanta. Where Rick could be with Daryl again.

Shaking his head to clear it of his despair, Rick pulled into the driveway of his old house. It still brought fond memories to the forefront of his mind, despite his state right now. This house was inextricably tied to Daryl, and the two of them, together. Rick could never come home without thinking of the other man.

But he didn't have time for that. Now, he had to focus.

The front door opened, and his dad stepped out, followed by his mom. He watched as she turned and carefully set the deadbolt. He wondered if she'd ever be back to unlock it. Would they ever be able to come home?

Rick stepped out of his car to hug his mom, and met his dad's eyes.

"Thanks for coming, son. Where's Daryl?" his dad asked.

Rick couldn't help the stinging in his eyes. He covered it by rubbing the bridge of his nose before speaking. "Had to go get Merle. He'll meet us in Atlanta."

His dad's expression became cautious as he looked over his son, and he reached out a hand to pat Rick's shoulder, offering a timid smile. Rick couldn't even try to return it.

"He'll be fine; don't you worry, sweetheart, you'll be with him again in no time," his mom piped up, and her bolstering smile almost helped a bit.

Rick cleared his throat. "We should take both cars. You never know what could happen, and the last thing we need is to be stranded."

"Alright. We'll follow you," his dad said, and he and Rick's mom got in the car, while Rick hopped back in the jeep. He pulled out of the driveway, and led the way slowly out of town.

Rick's jeep ran out of gas after a few hours on the interstate. The roads were bumper to bumper, so Rick just drove his vehicle onto the shoulder, and got out. When he reached his parent's car, his mom opened her door, a worried expression on her face.

"What's wrong, honey? Out of gas?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah, and there's no chance of getting some out here. How're y'all doin'?"

His dad piped up. "It's at the half. We should make it to Atlanta before we run out. I hope, anyway."

"Alright. I'll grab my things and just ride with y'all," Rick said, and turned back to his jeep. His dad got out to help him, while his mom stayed with the car.

Rick loaded himself down with bags, and his dad did the same, all the while shooting him furtive glances. Rick noticed, though. "What's up, dad?"

His dad looked down, contemplating whether to say what was on his mind, Rick guessed. He looked back up and met Rick's eyes. "Daryl's gonna be alright, son. I know you're worried about him, and I am, too. I love that boy like my own, you know that."

Rick nodded slowly, his expression downcast. He didn't really want to talk about this. His dad needed to get it off his chest, though, it seemed.

"Daryl took me huntin' while you were trainin' for work, I think we told you. I've seen how that boy hunts. Nothin' is gonna get the best of him. You gotta believe that, son," his dad persisted.

Rick took a deep breath, and nodded firmly. He did know that. There was no one he'd rather have in a fight than Daryl.

God, he wished he were here.

"Thanks, Dad. C'mon, let's get back to Mom." Rick led the way back to the car, and quickly deposited his bags in the backseat, then sat down for a long ride.

Some eight hours later, Rick and his parents were finally seeing signs indicating they were just a couple of miles from turning off into Atlanta. They could feel the anticipation in the air, like a solid thing that weighed everyone down. The people around them were getting out of their cars, stretching and looking through the trees for glimpses of the safe haven before them.

Others were walking towards the city in groups, presumably haven broken down or run out of gas, and they were laden down with their belongings, expressions of exhaustion and cautious hope on their faces.

Rick's dad sighed from the backseat, having given up the driver's seat a few hours ago to Rick so he could take a nap. "How much longer do we have before we need gas?" he asked.

Rick didn't even need to look down, as he'd been checking the gauge obsessively for the last couple of hours. "Probably an hour at the rate we're goin'. The cars are movin' every coupla minutes, so I can't turn the car off. Takes too much gas to start it up again."

They kept their voices low, as Beth was fast asleep next to Rick, her head resting on her window.

Out of nowhere, a loud boom rent the air. And then the screaming started.

Rick looked out the window quickly, and shock pervaded his body. "Mom, wake up! Dad, d'you see that?"

Rick saw his mom jerk awake out of the corner of his eye, but he was already getting out of the car. He heard the back door open behind him, but his eyes fixed were on the sky.

Fire rose above the trees, and Rick watched as helicopters flew above them and sped away.

What the fuck was going on?

"Stay here!" Rick yelled, and started running towards the trees. He heard his dad shout something, but didn't know what he said. He didn't bother to wait and find out what it was.

He just ran.

As he breached the tree line along the interstate, the fire disappeared momentarily. About a hundred yard in, the city came into view, and Rick stopped in his tracks, stumbling.

He fell to his knees, unable to stand under the despair that wracked his heart. The city was in ruins.

No. Carl.

For the first time since this day started, he felt true, unadulterated fear for himself and his family. What were they supposed to do if the very people that were supposed to help them, protect them, instead blew them to smithereens?

For those helicopters in the skies, the ones that Rick guessed dropped the bombs, weren't from a foreign country. If a foreign nation were going to attack, they wouldn't use short range, and relatively slow, transportation like a copter provided.

They'd been bombed by their own government. There was no other explanation.

Were they told to go to Atlanta so that more people could be taken out at once? Where was the sense in that?

Shaking his head, Rick's thoughts fell on his brother. What if he had decided to stay? What if he heard the reports, and turned around to come back?

What if he was burning in the city right now?

A groan of pain escaped Rick's mouth, but it wasn't physical pain that gripped his chest and squeezed. It was the pain of a brother, who feared for the life of the person he was supposed to protect. It was his job, as a big brother, to look out for Carl.

And he'd failed.

Rick's breath stuttered as he thought of the other person he'd vowed to protect. Daryl.

Daryl, who was looking for his brother. Daryl, who was coming to the city to find them.

Fuck.

Rick stood up on shaky legs, and when he turned to go back to the interstate, he saw faces all around him. Frightened, no, terrified, people, staring at the city.

Everyone was lost.

Rick got back to the car, and saw his parents were still standing next to it, searching for him. Their anxious expressions fell on him, and he couldn't hold back the fear in his voice.

"The city is gone. It's gone."

Daryl parked his old truck at the cabin, and grabbed his crossbow, shotgun, and a bag of supplies before stepping outside. Dried leaves cracked under his feet as he stepped towards the woods surrounding him. He decided to go east. His brother preferred to stay near a natural water source when he hunted, and the river that way ran for a few miles.

He stepped over fallen logs and branches, keeping his tread quiet and even. He knew these woods better than probably anyone, save Merle. Bastard was born for the woods. All Dixons were, at one time.

Even his dad would take them hunting sometimes, before their Ma died. Then he changed. He'd always been a bastard, but after she was gone, he'd turned into a drunk, abusive bastard with a short temper.

Daryl still loved the woods, though. They reminded him of better days, and brought a peace that was almost impossible to find in the city. The only time Daryl felt that kind of tranquility outside of the woods was when he was with Rick.

Rick.

Fuck, he missed him already. He was used to having Rick's uneven and loud steps next to his in the woods. He wanted to turn around and berate him for being an oaf, and have Rick tease him back.

But he couldn't, because Rick wasn't here.

Daryl thought of those…things. Those zombies, or whatever the fuck they were. He hoped Rick could handle himself. He knew the man could shoot. He was a damn good shot, in fact. He was just too nice, sometimes.

And Daryl had forgotten to mention his suspicions that you had to hit them in the head. Fuck, he was such an idiot. He didn't know if his guess was right, but seeing as how that undead fucker that had almost gotten Rick didn't stay down until Daryl's bike had crushed it's skull, he didn't know what else to think.

Unless you had to run all of them over. He snorted without humor. They'd run outta vehicles real quick if that were the case.

Hours passed, and before Daryl knew it, night was falling. He decided to set up camp and start again first thing in the morning.

He passed the night half-asleep, keeping one ear out for anything approaching his tent. Nothing did, thankfully.

Daryl rose with the sun, and set out again. This time he yelled for Merle, hoping that nothing else heard his shouts. He'd just have to deal with anything that came at him.

An hour later, something did. Daryl's voice was getting a bit hoarse from yelling, and he'd just leaned against a tree for a short break when he heard the snapping of twigs and the shuffle-shuffle of an uncoordinated walk a few yards to his right.

He raised his crossbow, thinking the shotgun was too loud, and kept it pointed towards the noise. Around the group of trees in front of him, he saw a shadow move. Keeping his crossbow trained on the spot, he moved closer slowly, cautiously.

And then it rounded the corner, and Daryl fought the urge to scream.

It used to be woman. She wore a long, yellow dress, which was ripped in places, probably from branches and such. And her face… it was hanging off.

Her jaw was only bone and blood, and she had holes in her cheeks, as if she'd had an animal gnaw on them. She staggered towards him, letting out a guttural moan, arms outstretched.

Daryl danced out of her way, and pulled the trigger, aiming for her head. The arrow pierced her skull, and she fell.

He held his breath as he watched her, and let it out slowly when she didn't move again.

He retrieved his arrow, as he only had a dozen, and cleaned it with the rag in his pocket before loading it back on his bow.

And then he continued his search.

Maybe it was because for a time in his life, he felt like he was fighting a battle everyday, but he didn't find it that hard to adapt to fighting for survival. The only thing that was jarring, really, was not having the people he loved there with him. Merle. Carol. Beth, Jimmy, and Carl.

Rick.

Sighing, he trudged further through the woods, calling his brother's name, until the sun set again. He ate from the woods, rather than digging into his supplies, because he had no idea how long they'd have to last him.

He set up camp again, irritation and worry pervading his mind, and tried to rest. He was up before the sun the next day, and this time moved further west than he had earlier. His guess that Merle was east was probably wrong, then.

Around midday, he heard a light crunch behind him, and turned just in time to see a grinning Merle behind him, who had obviously been preparing to pounce on him.

"Dammit, Merle. Where the hell you been?" he shouted, and Merle laughed.

"Aw, c'mon now, baby brother. You don't look too happy ta see me. Whatcha doin' out here anyway?" Merle replied, moving closer to Daryl.

Merle stopped in his tracks when Daryl raised his crossbow and pointed it at him. "What the hell? I weren't gon' hurt ya, Darlena—" he started, and snapped his mouth shut as Daryl pulled the trigger on his crossbow, and the arrow went whizzing by his head.

There was a thump, and then silence. Merle turned slowly on the spot, and spotted the undead thing that had been closing in on them while he'd been distracted with Daryl. He gulped, and turned back to Daryl.

"Got something' ta tell me, baby brother?"

Three hours later, Daryl had explained what was going on—as much as he could anyway, because really he didn't know what the fuck was happening himself—and they had gotten back to the cabin.

They went inside and packed up Merle's stuff, and, after much bitching from Merle, loaded his motorcycle onto Daryl's truck bed. Then they got in the truck and started towards town.

Merle was still in a bit of a disbelieving shock.

"You sure 'bout this, Daryl?" he asked.

Daryl took note that Merle had called him by his proper name in probably the first time in two decades. The last time he remembered him doing that, he'd broken his arm falling out a tree that Merle had dared him to climb, and his twelve-year-old big brother had called him by his name, apologizing his ass off.

"I'm sure, Merle. News says we need ta get to safety. 's why we're goin' to Atlanta," Daryl explained.

They were getting closer to the town, and Daryl was surprised by how deserted it was. In order to get to the interstate, they had to pass through it. Both men gazed out the windows at the lack of cars. But there were people walking around.

Daryl quickly noticed that they were more of those zombie fuckers. Merle realized it too, if his intake of breath was anything to go by.

"Hell, brother, let's kill these sons-a-bitches!" Merle shouted as he reached for his gun.

Daryl's hand shot out to stop him. "No. They're attracted to sound, ya dumbass. You shoot that, we'll be swarmed 'fore we can get outta town."

Merle huffed, but didn't argue. He still didn't really know what they were up against. Daryl figured once Merle had killed a few, he'd be more than ready to take down every last one he saw.

As they merged onto the interstate, Daryl noticed that there were cars and buses littering the sides of the road, lined up on the grass, and scattered over the pavement. There weren't enough to make it difficult to navigate through them, but it was still shocking.

People had run out of gas or broken down. And then what? They'd walked to Atlanta?

Daryl shook his head. It wasn't his problem. There was nothing he could do for those people.

A couple of hours passed, and Daryl took note of the quickly emptying tank. "Need gas," he muttered.

Merle looked over at him, and grinned. "No better place, Darlena. Plenty o' cars around. Let's see if any have some ta spare."

Daryl felt a moment of remorse at having to steal gas, but quickly shoved it away. He wasn't taking anything for the hell of it. This was about survival.

It was a different world now.

He stopped the truck and grabbed his crossbow. Merle followed with the pistol that Daryl had grabbed from the garage. Daryl grabbed the gas can and the hose he'd packed in case of a situation like this. Sometimes it helped having a shady past. He knew just how to steal if he needed to.

The first and only time he'd stolen gas, he'd been riding with Merle at night in their dad's truck, and it had run out of gas, because Merle was an idiot. They happened to stop near a bar, so Merle walked in and asked if there was a gas station nearby. When he learned there wasn't, he'd gone back outside to the fourteen-year-old Daryl, and explained what they had to do.

Daryl had snuck around back to steal the hose, and then he and Merle had taken gas from a couple of the cars in the parking lot. Luckily, they weren't caught.

Daryl remembered the exhilaration he'd felt, breaking the law. Even if all they'd stolen was gas, he'd still felt like a badass.

He didn't feel like that now.

Now, he just felt desperate.

They tried a few cars, and came up empty. Merle got distracted and started rummaging through the cars, but Daryl kept on. He had a goal to accomplish.

"Could jus' take the bike," Merle suggested.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Merle. Where're we gonna put our shit? And no way am I ridin' bitch," he bit out.

Merle laughed, and Daryl turned back to his task.

He had to get them out of this.

He found a beat up Chevy Cobalt, and, to his relief, got some gas out of it. He whooped in pleasure, and Merle started over towards him, his gaze fixed on Daryl. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, eyes wide.

"Brother! Get down!" Merle hissed, then he dropped down, out of Daryl's view.

Daryl's head whipped around, and he saw a whole crowd of those undead fuckers, at least three dozen.

Heading straight towards him.

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Cause it's always raining in my head

Chapter Four—'Cause it's always raining in my head, forget all the things I should have said

For the next two days, Rick and his parents drove the backroads of Georgia, searching for any sign of Carl. They had discussed the possibility of trying to search Atlanta, but Rick thought the chances of finding him in there, after the destruction that took place, was rare if not impossible.

Rick didn't let himself think that if Carl had been in the city, he was most likely dead. He couldn't think like that.

Last they'd heard, Carl's roommate said that he left at noon the day before the bombing. They had to go off of what information they had.

So Rick, Jimmy, and Beth found a small, rather deserted town, and searched high and low for a gas station that had any fuel left. Rick used a trick that he'd learned from Daryl the one time he'd run out of gas on the way back from camping, and Daryl had siphoned some out of his own tank to get him home.

He stopped at a deserted house and stole the garden hose. His conscience tweaked at the thought of stealing, but it wasn't as if he could buy one. All of the stores were closed.

He used his utility knife to cut the hose into a three-foot long section, and then stuck one end in the vehicle in a driveway a few blocks down. Most of the homes didn't have cars out front, presumably because their owners took all of them when they fled. The people here must have had one car too many, because the house was deserted. Rick had checked.

He sucked on the other end of the hose, and as soon as gas hit his mouth, he spat it out, then put that end into the gas can. He'd gotten enough out of the tank to fill up half of his dad's car, which was about five hours of driving time, if they were careful.

They left the town, and drove down the backroads for the rest of the day, searching out additional fuel sources when they needed to.

"Honey, we already searched this road," Beth said early on the second day of looking. Jimmy sighed.

"Pull out the map then, Beth. Find me a new road," he answered shortly. This whole ordeal was straining all of them. They'd slept in the car, and all three of them were tired, irritable, and growing more terrified with every moment that passed without any sign of Carl.

Beth searched the map, and pointed up ahead. "'Bout two miles, take a left on county road 45. We haven't checked it yet, and it goes west towards home. If the roads were backed up, it's possible Carl detoured down there."

No one answered her. It was the same thing they'd all said at one point. Maybe Carl had taken this road because of traffic, or maybe the troopers had blocked off this one, or maybe there'd been an accident, and he'd taken a backroad instead of the interstate.

Jimmy turned onto 45, keeping a steady speed as each of them searched out the windows. Rick was looking out the back driver's side, as his dad had to keep an eye on the road. Everywhere they'd driven had cars stopped along the pavement, the grass, half in the woods. It was a mess.

"There! That's it, stop Dad!" Rick shouted, and he was out of the car and sprinting while it was still moving.

Ahead of him was a red Honda Civic, with a bumper sticker that read 'Keep Honking, I'm Reloading', and a dent in the back fender where Carl had backed into a tree when he came over to Rick and Daryl's for Rick's birthday party. He ran full tilt until he'd reached the driver's side, and he wrenched open the door, all thoughts of the possible danger of being out in the open absent from his mind.

The car was empty.

There were a couple of bags in the backseat, and upon inspection, Rick found that they were full of clothes. Rick rounded the car, searching for the reason that Carl had stopped here, and found it in the body wedged beneath the front fender.

The body that was still moving.

There was a… zombie, it's body crushed under the tire of the car, but it's shoulders and head still straining to get free. It snapped at Rick, and he backed up from it, warily.

"Dammit!" Rick shouted. He heard footsteps pounding behind him, and he turned to meet his parents' frantic faces. "He's not here. Don't look at the front of the car. Suffice it to say that Carl hit one of the infected people, and his car must've been damaged. He probably walked."

Jimmy and Beth sighed, their expressions downcast. Jimmy looked back up at Rick. "Let's look for him, then. He must've walked from here, right? So we'll search in the woods until we find him. He might've found a cabin, or a house or somethin' to hole up in."

Rick and Beth both nodded, determination setting in. Rick gave a thought to Daryl, who could've probably tracked Carl down in a day or less. His heart ached at the thought of his love, who was probably searching for him, if he'd made it out of town yet.

He didn't want to think of how long it might've taken Daryl to find his brother. The thought of him out there in the woods, alone, made Rick sick to his stomach.

He wished they were together.

Sighing at his morose thoughts, Rick shook his head to focus on Carl.

They would find him, even if it was the last thing they did.

Daryl ducked quickly, and scrambled to the other side of the car he'd been taking gas from. The hose was still leaking gas into the can, so he left it, worried only about getting the fuck outta this alive.

The car was on the edge of the interstate, half on the grass, and now Daryl had his back to the woods, and his eyes focused on the fucking freaks working their way through the mishmash of vehicles littering the road. He knew if he had to make a run for it, he stood a better chance of fighting off more of them in the woods. If worse came to worst, he could scale a tree and shoot them one at a time.

He didn't think the fuckers could climb, but he'd rather not find out just yet.

The zombies walked by, searching for fresh meat, and Daryl thought he was pretty much in the clear, until he heard a scream.

That definitely weren't Merle.

Daryl craned his neck, searching out the source of the noise, and saw a young woman darting through the cars, screaming her fucking head off.

Dumbass. She was only gonna attract more of them.

The girl got close to Daryl's hiding spot, and some of the zombies that had passed him by were turning around to go for the girl. They would find him sooner or later. Might as well start fighting before they could form a big crowd.

"Jesus," Daryl muttered, and shouldered his crossbow before taking out the fucker closest to the screeching girl. She turned to face him, silent at last, her mouth open in shock. "Shut the hell up, girl, they can hear you!" he hissed at her, and her eyed widened.

Then she started running towards him, tears running down her face. When she reached him, he grabbed her wrist, then turned tail and ran. No way he could fight all twenty or so that were coming after them.

He made it to the woods with only two on their heels. Daryl pushed the girl behind a tree and pulled out his hunting knife. He thrust the blade into the skull of the nearest freak, and it stopped moving. When he pulled the knife out with a squelch, the zombie collapsed.

Looked like his theory was right.

He quickly took out the other one, then turned back to the girl, who was standing wide-eyed and terrified, but also seemed a little awestruck at Daryl's use of the knife.

He linked his fingers together, and held them out to her. "C'mon, gotta get in the tree. Lemme give you a boost," he said quickly. She nodded, then placed her foot on his hands, and braced herself against his shoulders as he lifted her up. She grasped a branch, and agilely hooked a leg over it to pull herself up.

Daryl put his foot in a notch in the bark, then launched himself as high as he could, just managing to grab the lowest hanging branch. He pulled himself up, his crossbow banging into his back the whole time.

Sighing, Daryl wiped his brow and watched as the undead fuckers looked up at them, snarling and grasping at the tree, but unable to climb.

Thank goodness for that, at least.

"Thank you so much. You saved my life," the girl said quietly. Daryl shrugged, keeping his eyes on the zombies. He needed to be ready in case anything unexpected happened.

"I'm Jamie. What's your name?"

"Daryl," he grunted. He squinted out towards the edge of the woods, looking for any sign of Merle. He knew his brother wouldn't be stupid enough to come wandering through a big crowd of zombies, but he might try to pick some off if he got a good enough position.

And sure enough, as soon as the thought entered Daryl's mind, he heard a shot. The girl startled and had to throw an arm out to keep herself from falling off the limb.

Daryl just smiled.

He reloaded his bow, and took aim at the undead fuckers below. He had about a dozen arrows. Might as well make use of them.

About an twenty minutes later, Daryl climbed down from the tree, and turned to help the girl down. To his surprise, he found her dangling from a branch, before she dropped the final few feet to the ground. Standing upright, she dusted off her hands and shot him a grin.

He nodded to her, eyebrow raised, and began pulling his arrows from the bodies littered around his feet. These were the only ones he had, so he needed to reuse them as many times as possible. After he cleaned them all off as best he could with the leg of his jeans, he turned to make his way out of the woods, the girl keeping up behind him.

Her step was light enough, though not like a hunter's. Just more like a girl, he figured. Not like Rick at all.

Daryl's stomach flipped at the thought of Rick, and he walked faster. They needed to get the fuck out of here and to Atlanta.

"Hey, baby brother! 'Bout time you showed up, was almost ready to come lookin' fer ya!" Merle said jovially, obvious relief on his face to see that Daryl was unharmed.

"You alright, Merle? Any o' them getcha?" Daryl asked. Merle shook his head.

"Nah. Never got close enough. Stayed hidden 'til they passed, and I was on top o' that bus when I took 'em out," Merle replied. "Think there's people in there."

The girl spoke up, drawing Merle's attention to her for the first time. "There are! We broke down, and I was off searchin' for supplies when the crowd of 'em came through. Your… brother? He saved me."

Merle grinned. "Tha's my brother. Ol' softie, he is."

They heard the bus squeak as people started to move around in it, and when the door opened, a woman holding a child burst through it and ran towards the girl beside Daryl.

"Oh God, Jamie! I was so worried, thank God you're alive!" she yelled as she reached her and wrapped her arms around her.

Instinctively, Daryl flinched away from the woman as she closed in. Loud women were a little out of his realm of comfort.

Jamie hugged the woman tightly, the child squeezed between them, relief on her face as well.

"How did-? What happened? Are you hurt?" the woman asked in quick succession, and Jamie shushed her.

"I'm fine, Danielle. Don't look so worried baby," she said to the child, who had a hand pressed to Jamie's cheek. "This man, here. Daryl. He saved me."

Daryl winced. Great.

And before he could stop it from happening, the woman was hugging him, tightly but briefly, and even kissed him on the cheek before he could wriggle away.

"Thank you for saving my sister. If there's anything we can do to repay you, please—"

Merle was laughing his ass off at his brother's red cheeks, and Daryl was trying to keep from just walking away from the women. He didn't need this shit. "S'fine. Don't need nothin'. We were jus' leavin'. C'mon, Merle."

"Well, wait a minute there, Darlena. They might have somethin' we need, maybe we should ask. We did save her sister, after all," Merle cut in coyly.

The sisters expressions became a bit wary, but they didn't rescind their offer. Daryl shrugged. He knew he wasn't gonna get Merle outta here until he'd searched the bus of anything they might need.

Merle waved the girls on in a mock- gentlemanly fashion, and they followed them to the door of the bus. They climbed on, and Daryl counted the people he saw there, in case Merle started something.

Besides the two girls and the kid—which Daryl could tell now was a boy, maybe four, with blonde hair that matched his mother's—Daryl counted four men and four women.

Unfortunately, he immediately recognized a few of them. To his right was Walsh, his old teacher from high school. The bastard was looking Daryl up and down suspiciously, a gun grasped in his right hand.

Daryl held in a snort. He'd eat an arrow if he knew how to aim that thing right. Next to Walsh was the old Assistant Principal, Lori Walker. He always hated that bitch. He ignored her as his eyes continued scanning the seats.

Principal Greene and Coach Douglas were seated to Walsh and Walker's right, and both looked surprised, though not unhappy to see Daryl there. Though, they did shoot uneasy glances at Merle.

Daryl didn't really hold that against them. Merle was hard to get used to sometimes.

He didn't recognize the last guy, who was in his thirties, Daryl guessed. He was holding hands with a woman, same age, who was probably his wife. Both watched him and Merle nervously.

Daryl spotted the school nurse, Sophia if his memory served him right, sitting across from the couple. She sent him and Merle a nervous smile as they moved past her.

The last person, Daryl could only see in profile. He knew it was a woman because of her silhouette, but her back was turned to him. As they reached the back of the bus, where Danielle had said the supplies were, the last woman turned her face towards them, and Daryl's mouth fell open.

Her eyes rose to them, and immediately widened. "Merle? Daryl?"

Merle grinned. "Hey, Carol! Glad ya made it outta town alive." She smiled at him, and patted his arm as he moved past her to search the supplies. Daryl stepped forward, and to both of their shock, pulled Carol into a quick hug. It was such a fucking relief to see that at least one more person he cared about had made it this far.

"Fuck, Carol. I'm sorry I didn't come lookin' for you," Daryl muttered as he pulled away from her. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

She smiled at him gently. "No worries, Daryl. We couldn't leave until all the kids got home to their parents anyway. Everything went to hell on a school day, of course," she said wryly, and Daryl gave her a reluctant smile. She frowned, and looked around them. "Where's Rick?"

Daryl cleared his throat and looked down, shifting on his feet.

Carol gasped, a hand coming up to her mouth. "No!"

Daryl looked up quickly and shook his head. "He's fine, s'far as I know. Carl was supposed to come home a couple days ago, but never showed. Rick went with Beth and Jimmy to find him."

Carol furrowed her brow. "So, you and Merle…"

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Merle was out huntin', had no idea what was goin' on. Took me two fuckin' days to track his ass down," he grumbled. Carol smiled sympathetically.

"Well, I'm sure you'll be together again soon, Daryl. There's no force in the world that can keep the two of you apart."

Daryl smiled back at her, his first real smile since he was back in the cabin with Rick, perhaps. He hoped she was right.

"What're y'all doin' here, Dixon?" a voice said from behind him, and Daryl turned to see Walsh hovering over him, gun still in his hand.

Daryl sneered. Even during the apocalypse, this prick was unbearable. "Survivin', whatcha think?" he replied sarcastically, and moved away from the man. He joined Merle by the supplies.

He could hear Walsh muttering to some of the other people, but he really couldn't give a shit. The man could talk about them all he wanted. They weren't sticking around, anyhow.

"Daryl?" Carol asked hesitantly, walking up to stand next to them. Daryl grunted in acknowledgment, watching as Merle went through a box of ammo and weapons. "I was wonderin' whether you and Merle would like to join us. Y'all heading for Atlanta? That's where Carl goes to school, right?"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, Rick and I are gonna meet up there."

"Well, that's where we're goin', too. Maybe y'all could help fix up the bus? And then we could all, you know, look out for each other?" The hope in her eyes was something that Daryl was loath to crush.

"Maybe, Carol. I'll talk to Merle 'bout it, ok?"

Carol nodded and shot him a smile before walking back over to join her group. She sat next to the couple, the man and woman that Daryl didn't know, and started a conversation. He saw the man's eyes dart to them on occasion and figured they were asking her about them.

Daryl took a step closer to his brother. "Merle," he said, and his brother faced him with a big smile, holding a large pistol in his hands.

"Lookit this here, brother. Nice, innit?" he asked.

Daryl nodded distractedly. "Yeah, Merle. Listen, Carol asked if we wanted to stick around. They're goin' to Atlanta, too. I figure, the more bodies we got, the better off we'll be if we're swarmed again."

Merle grimaced, and shook his head. "I dunno, baby brother. Remember, now, that you'da been fine earlier if that girl hadn't come out screamin'. Them things weren't even lookin' atcha. Sometimes more ain't better."

He had a point there, Daryl had to admit. He shrugged. "Truth is, I don't wanna leave Carol with these people alone. Who knows if they'd make it without us?"

Merle looked down for a moment, debating. Then he nodded reluctantly. "She don't seem the type to abandon her people, does she? Think she'd ditch 'em and come with us?"

Daryl shook his head. "No way, and she'd be pissed if you asked her."

Merle scoffed. "Alright, then, brother. We'll stay. C'mon, let's fix up this piece o' shit so we can hit the road."

Daryl followed Merle towards the front of the bus. They stopped by Carol, who stood to meet them.

"We're stayin', Carol. Gonna see what we can do about this bus," Merle said loudly, and everyone's eyes turned to look at them. Carol gave them both a wide smile, and Daryl looked down, uncomfortable with all of the attention.

"That's wonderful, thank you! Everyone, this is Merle Dixon and his brother Daryl. They're gonna fix the bus up so we can head out, and they'll stay with us until Atlanta," Carol said to the group, and some of them looked at the men with curiosity, others with trepidation. Walsh just glared at them. "Boys, this is Benjamin and his wife Janine. We picked them up right outside of town, they'd run outta gas." She gestured to the couple, who both nodded at the Dixons.

Daryl returned the gesture, and Merle just grinned.

"You know Shane, and Lori. Hershel and Theodore and Sophia you know as well," she said distractedly. Daryl's old Principal, Coach, and nurse all waved at him and Merle. He smiled awkwardly back at them.

"Oh, and of course you met Jamie," Carol motioned towards the girl Daryl had hid in the tree with, who smiled at him brilliantly. Daryl looked away. "And you met Danielle, her sister, and her little boy, Asher."

Daryl nodded at the woman and her kid. To be honest, he'd always liked kids. They had a lot more sense than adults, oftentimes. And they were always nicer.

"Well, that's everyone. Let me get all the tools we have, so you can get started," Carol said, but Daryl held up a hand to stop her.

"Don't worry 'bout it. I brought all my own," he muttered, and he nudged Merle along. The man had been ogling the girl, Jamie, who was sneering at him now.

Merle and Daryl walked back to the truck, picking up the half-full gas can along the way. Neither man was willing to leave the truck behind, as Daryl refused to be stuck on the bus with all of those people, and Merle wasn't gonna leave his bike.

Merle poured the gas in while Daryl found his tools, and they hopped in to drive closer to the bus. If it was a battery problem, they'd need the truck anyway, to jumpstart it.

The men got to work, occasionally murmuring to each other over the engine, their hands working efficiently and in sync. They'd been fixing vehicles together for so long, it was practically a dance.

It required very little conscious thought on Daryl's part, thankfully. So, instead of being on the bus, his mind was on Rick, and where he was, and whether he and his parents had found Carl.

He wondered if he was thinking of him, too.

Sighing, Daryl wiped the sweat off of his brow and got back to work.


	5. Everyday I'm so afraid, afraid of dying

Chapter Five—Everyday I'm so afraid, afraid of dying

Rick went still when he heard a twig snap to his left. He raised the knife that he found in one of the abandoned cars, and stood at the ready. He wouldn't be taken by surprise by one of those… what did his mom want to call them? Walkers?

Yeah, walkers. He wouldn't be caught unawares by one.

He kept his gaze focused on the cluster of trees to his left as he listened for more movement. But none came.

After another minute passed, and still Rick heard nothing, he relaxed enough to continue his search.

He and his parents had been searching for seven days now. They walked the woods during the day, meeting at the car when the sun was highest in the sky to take a break and eat some lunch, which usually consisted of a can of beans to split between them.

Then they set out again, not stopping until the sun set. His mom and dad stuck together, as neither Jimmy nor Rick wanted Beth out in the woods without protection. For once, she didn't argue the point. She didn't think she was ready to take on a walker by herself, either.

They'd left a note on Carl's windshield, just in case he came back while they were away, telling him they were searching for him, and to stay there until they came back.

So far, they'd only come back to each other.

Rick sighed as he looked up at the sky. It was nearing nightfall. He had maybe an hour left before he needed to head back to the highway. He couldn't go back empty handed, again. He just couldn't.

Thirty minutes passed, and Rick was turning with the natural path in the forest, when he saw a house up ahead. It was no more than a cabin, really, but he felt hope bloom in his heart before he could stop it. He moved faster, still watching his surroundings carefully, knife drawn.

"Carl?" he called softly. He saw the curtain in the front window move, but then nothing. Rick held his breath as he walked up the front steps, knife held down by his hip, like he saw Daryl do when he closed in on a kill. He carefully peered into the window, and saw through the small space between the curtains that there was a light flickering inside. Like a candle.

Just as he caught the sight, it disappeared. Whoever was in there had spotted him, and blown the candle out.

It might not be Carl, then.

Rick fought his despair, and moved to the front door again. "Hello?" he called, more loudly than before. "If anyone is in there, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just lookin' for my brother."

He waited in silence for just a few seconds before the door swung open, and all of the air left his lungs.

"Rick!" Carl yelled, and stumbled out the door and into his big brother's arms. Rick sheathed his knife and pressed shaking hands to Carl's back, trying to hold in his sobs of relief.

"Thank God, thank God," he muttered over and over, hugging Carl tighter, than pushing him away so he could look at him. "We've been looking for you for over a week, Carl! What happened?"

Carl wiped the tears that had gathered in his eyes away impatiently. "The interstate was closed off, so I took a back road. Ran into one of those things, and then my car wouldn't start, so I walked into the woods to find somewhere to hole up. How the hell did you find me?"

Risk shook his head, barely believing his luck. "Mom, Dad, and I got to Atlanta, and the city… it was being bombed, Carl." His brother's eyes widened in shock. "By our people, too. I don't know why. But we got the hell outta there after that, went searchin' for you. We found your car, and we've been combin' the woods ever since."

Carl shook his head, trying to take all of this in. "So Mom and Dad are okay? Wait, what about Daryl? He's not with you?"

Rick's heart clenched at the mention of Daryl. "Merle was hunting, and Daryl had to go get him when people started evacuating. Dad told me that you were supposed to have been home the day before, so I went with them, and Daryl… went to get his brother. We were supposed to meet up in Atlanta, but…"

"But it's been destroyed. God, I'm sorry, Rick," Carl said sadly. "If I hadn't crashed, then maybe we'd all be together, and—"

"Hey, don't think like that. This was no one's fault. What's important is that we found you, and now we can try to find Daryl and Merle," Rick said soothingly, and Carl nodded, forcing a smile. He shifted on his feet, and for the first time, Rick noticed that his brother was holding his left arm at an awkward angle, hugged closely to his chest.

""What's wrong? Did a walker get you?" Rick asked urgently, fear spreading through him.

Carl's brow furrowed. "Walker? Is that what you call 'em?"

Rick shook his head impatiently. "Mom thought of it. Carl! Answer me."

"No, nothing got me. I hurt it in the crash. I broke it, I think, but I can't be sure. It hurts too much to move," Carl said, and Rick cursed under his breath.

"Alright. Well, you stay put here, Carl, and don't come out for anyone but me and Mom and Dad. I'll be back, hopefully not too long after nightfall."

Carl looked worried. "You sure? I don't want you goin' out there alone."

Rick nodded. "Been doin' it for a week now, and I can move faster on my own. Go on, now, get inside. I'll be back soon."

Carl did as he said, and Rick set off for the highway, his heart lighter than it'd been in over a week.

Daryl and Merle stayed in the truck for the drive to Atlanta, and they led he way down the interstate, the bus following closely behind.

After they'd found Carol and the others, Daryl and Merle had decided to stay with them as long as they could without putting themselves in danger. The brothers were as equipped as they could be for this world, since they could hunt for their own food, stay quiet if they needed to, and knew what was necessary to survive outside for long periods of time.

You could never tell with city folks, though. Daryl had found that, despite their schooling and sometimes privileged upbringings, they couldn't figure out the simplest shit.

He tried not to wonder whether the things he'd taught Rick over the years had sunk in or not.

He would do his best to stay with this group. He didn't want to leave Carol. But, if worse came to worst, and their chances of being killed was higher because of some dumbass people who couldn't be quiet to save their lives—well, then, he might just have to knock Carol out and take her away by force.

He'd done worse, before.

Daryl didn't want to admit it, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that, and not just because Carol would be pissed. In all honesty, he really didn't want to leave the little kid, Asher. His mom and aunt weren't equipped to protect him, not in this new world.

Transitioning to survival mode was easier for the Dixon brothers. They'd had to do it often while growing up.

Daryl's attention was brought back to the road in front of him as he passed the sign that indicated the next exit was for Atlanta. As he drove closer to the turn-off, he raised his eyes to see the city below.

What he saw made his heart feel like it stopped in his chest.

The bus behind him stuttered to a stop, and Daryl pulled over in front of it, his eyes locked on the city before them.

The city was in ruins.

Merle reached for him, but Daryl pulled out of his grasp and stumbled out of the truck. He heard someone call his name, he thought it might be Carol, but he ignored her.

He walked as if in a trance towards the woods, and his eyes scanned the skyline, horror and pain growing in his gut. He stepped through the trees, not watching where he was going, and fell over branches, scratching his palms on the unforgiving ground.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and his brother's sharp voice in his ear, but his words were fuzzy and Daryl couldn't make them out. He needed to get to the city.

He needed to find Rick.

Merle wrapped an arm around Daryl's chest, holding him still, and his words finally penetrated the thick fog in his brain.

"- gonna fall off the damn cliff, brother, now snap out of it!"

Daryl blinked, and looked down. He was indeed on the edge of a steep hill. Another step would've sent him careening a couple of hundred feet down to a ravine, full of jagged rocks and hard soil.

Daryl shook his head. He couldn't help but lean against his big brother, whose chest was pressed against his back in support. He tried to take in a full breath, but a sob escaped, and Daryl felt his legs buckle under him.

Merle's grip tightened, but in a fit of rage, Daryl shook him off roughly. He was _pissed_. At Rick for not being here. At the world, for the injustice of this whole fucked up situation.

But mostly, at himself, for leaving Rick in the first place.

He clenched his hands into fists and punched the nearest tree as hard as he could, a harsh cry escaping his mouth as the bark scraped the skin off his knuckles.

"Fuck!" he shouted. He hit the tree again, ignoring Merle's attempt to stop him. "Dammit!"

"Daryl! Stop it, brother!" Merle yelled, wrapping his arms around Daryl's chest, holding his arms down by his sides. Daryl struggled in his grasp, but wasn't able to get loose. He kicked at Merle, but the man quickly swept his feet out from under him, and Daryl went down.

Merle still held his arms down by his side, so Daryl wasn't able to stop his head from hitting the ground face first. He closed his eyes at the impact, and all the air was knocked out his lungs as Merle's body weight fell on top of him.

All the fight left his body, and he unwillingly let out a sob.

"Fuck," he said again, his voice uneven.

"It's gonna be okay," Merle said, his voice full of empty promises.

Daryl shook his head, and couldn't help but lower his forehead to the ground in defeat, tears gathering in his eyes.. He tried to take in a full breath, but a sob escaped, and Daryl pressed his face into the dirt.

Merle's grip tightened, but it wasn't a restraining embrace any longer. He pressed his forehead against the back of Daryl's shoulder, wishing there was something he could do.

Daryl found his voice again. "Merle, what if- what if he d-didn't... What if he was in the c-city when-" he stuttered through his sobs. He felt like such a pussy, but God, it was _Rick_, for fuck's sake.

What would he do if he lost Rick?

Had he already lost him?

Merle shushed him quietly. "Can't think like that, baby brother. Rick's a survivor, he's probably out there right now, worryin' his mind over you."

Daryl nodded, his face still pressed to the dirt, and tried to steady his breathing. Merle was right; he had to believe that Rick was okay. Maybe the city was destroyed before Rick got here.

What had happened here? Daryl's thoughts wandered to Carl, and whether he'd been in the city.

He didn't want to think about what it would do to Rick if he lost his brother.

Daryl sighed, and Merle shifted off of him as he raised his torso off the ground, wiping his eyes on his forearm. Merle kept his eyes averted, giving his brother some semblance of privacy.

Daryl got to his feet, then pulled his brother up from where he'd been kneeling.

"C'mon," he croaked out. "We gotta get the fuck outta here and find some shelter."

Merle nodded, and followed him back to the interstate.

When they got back to the others, Daryl's face was dirty, but empty of tears. His voice was even and his stride was sure.

Some of them had seen him stumble into the woods, but he could pass that off as concern for the city. These people didn't know about Rick, except for Carol, and he'd be damned if they learned about his personal life.

It was none of their fucking business.

The bus people were standing in a loose circle, and Daryl spotted Carol standing slightly away from them, her body angled towards the woods, her face furrowed in concern.

Her expression cleared when she saw Daryl, and she cocked her head in question, waiting for him and Merle to join the group.

As the Dixon brothers stepped into the circle, everyone's eyes fixed on them. "City's gone," Daryl said shortly, and he was met with incredulous expressions.

"We saw the smoke, but thought maybe it was… I don't know, but not… are you sure?" Janine, one of the city people, asked, her hand clutched in her husband's.

"Yeah, I'm sure. There's no reason to go down there. We need to find shelter elsewhere before nightfall," Daryl replied, and he heard a derogatory snort come from across the group.

Fucking Walsh.

"We've got the bus. Why don't we just stay in there?" the asshole piped up, his expression arrogant and challenging.

"Because, dumbass, it could be easily surrounded, and it doesn't have enough exits if the…" Daryl glanced towards Asher, who was propped on his mom's hip, his little face looking right at him. Fuck, he couldn't say 'zombies' in front of the kid could he?

"Geeks," Jamie piped up. "Let's just call 'em geeks. Less scary that way," she finished in a whisper.

Daryl nodded. "If the geeks get in, we'd be sitting ducks. No way I'm staying inside that deathtrap, and I can't let y'all either. Nah, we need to find somewhere else, a building, or a house, or even a secluded place in the woods, as long as it's got decent lookout spots and it's not too rough o' terrain."

Benjamin shifted on his feet, and looked to his wife before speaking. "I'm with Daryl. We can't stay on the bus."

Merle gave Walsh a smug grin, and the man grimaced in return. "Fine, then. But I say we go somewhere the military will be holed up. We can count on them to protect us. Maybe Fort Benning. It's a two-hour drive, or—well, it used to be. Maybe we can get there before nightfall," Walsh said.

Daryl snorted. "Not likely, with the way these roads are blocked. We'd best find somewhere close by, then start out in the morning, if that's where everyone wants to go."

Benjamin and Janine nodded their assent. Danielle hitched Asher up higher on her hip, and assessed Daryl for a moment before smiling lightly. "We're with you," she said, and Jamie nodded beside her.

Carol moved into the space between the Dixons, and gently placed her arm on Daryl's. He didn't want to turn his gaze to meet hers, because she knew why he wanted to come here, and she knew what, or rather who, was on his mind now, consuming his thoughts.

Even as he made plans with these people, and argued with Walsh, he was still only ever thinking about Rick.

But she was his friend, so he met her eyes, nodded to her. The worry on her face was obvious, but she hid it before anyone else could see and gave him a smile. "We should get going, then," she said, and everyone moved towards the bus except Merle and Daryl, who walked to the truck.

"Follow us," Merle called as he climbed into the driver's seat. Daryl didn't argue with him, he was tired of driving anyway.

As Merle started the engine, Daryl leaned his head against the window for just a moment, and said a quiet prayer that Rick and his family were all right.

And then he raised his head, and focused his eyes on the road.

"This is bullshit, brother," Merle said, his gaze searching the tree line for any signs of a safe spot to set up camp.

Daryl looked over at him from the passenger's seat, eyebrow raised. "What's that?"

"Goin' to Fort Benning. You know as well as I do that the best place is out in the woods. 's the only place that we'll be safe from these fuckin' things," Merle spat, irritated.

Daryl shrugged. "I dunno if there's anywhere safe from 'em, really. But we have better odds with more people, I think."

Merle snorted. "You really think our odds improve with these city folk followin' us around? You think a one of 'em could hold his or her own against one o' those things?"

Daryl averted his gaze. "We can't just leave 'em, Merle."

Merle sighed. "I know, I know. I don't wanna leave Carol neither, little brother, but we could try to convince her to ditch the group. You and her have always been close, you could talk her into it, I bet."

Daryl shook his head, eyes focused on the trees whizzing by outside his window. "It's not just Carol."

Merle looked over at him. "No? What is it then? I know you don't gotta crush on either o' them ladies," he teased, and Daryl rolled his eyes. Merle sobered. "It's the kid, ain't it? You don't wanna leave the kid."

Daryl huffed, uncomfortable with this conversation. "He's defenselss, Merle, and you know as well as I do that that group won't last a week without us, more than likely. Shit, none o' them can even skin a squirrel or rabbit. I asked."

Merle glanced at him incredulously. "You serious?"

Daryl snorted. "Yeah."

"What the fuck man? We're in Georgia, not New York. Everyone down here should know how to skin a kill," Merle said, his voice rising in indignation.

"I'm with you, bro, but I remember teachin' Rick how to do it just a few years ago. He'd never done it before."

Merle shook his head, disgusted.

Daryl couldn't help it. He grinned.

It was fucking hilarious to get Merle worked up like this.

They ended up finding a clearing a few miles down the interstate. It was only a couple hundred yards into the woods, so they could make a quick escape if they needed to.

No one was ready to try to go into the towns, yet, as most of the… geeks, Daryl's mind supplied, were congregated there. Sooner or later, he figured they'd all venture out for food, and then the woods wouldn't be any safer than the cities.

Of course, that was just a guess.

They set up the tents they had, and took turns taking watch. Two people were awake at all times, and either Daryl or Merle was always one of the two.

Neither one trusted anyone else to keep them safe.

Walsh, of course, spent his time on watch throwing out comments that made Daryl grit his teeth, but he refused to rise to the bait. He'd grown up with someone who made it his life's goal to abuse Daryl, and make him feel worthless and stupid.

Walsh wasn't clever enough to get under his skin the way his old man could.

The next morning, Daryl woke everyone up at dawn, and they all gathered their belongings before boarding the bus. Daryl took over driving the truck, and they headed out.

They only had to stop once to refill their tanks, and the Dixons worked separately to fill up gas cans with pilfered fuel. As Daryl put the hose into the tank of an abandoned car, Walsh sauntered up to him, rifle in his hands.

"Why am I not surprised that you know how to steal gas, Dixon?" he asked nastily. "You do this every time you filled your tank up, even before all this shit happened?"

Daryl glared at him. "Keep yappin', Walsh, and you can walk your ass to Fort Benning. And don't think these people won't choose me over you."

Walsh opened his mouth to argue, and then snapped it shut, his eyes furious. He started to walk away, but shot his parting words back at Daryl as he went. "Yeah, Dixon, hick trash is what's gonna save these people from the end of the world. Keep tellin' yourself that if it makes you feel important."

Daryl's jaw tightened, but he made himself stay still. He wanted to beat Walsh's head in, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not in front of the kid, who was, again, standing next to his mom in front of the bus, about twenty feet away, eyes fixed on Daryl curiously.

Daryl cocked his head at the kid, letting him know he wasn't going to hurt him. The kid pulled out of his mom's reach and was running at him before Daryl or Danielle knew what was happening.

"Asher!" she yelled, and moved towards him, arm outstretched. He had already reached Daryl, and the man knelt down beside him, hand pressed against the kid's chest to keep him away from the gas fumes.

"Whoa there, kiddo. Don't need to get so close, alright?" he glanced up at Danielle, who had stopped a couple of feet away, and raised an eyebrow at her. "Now, go back to your mama."

Asher tilted his head at Daryl, and his little face was scrunched up in concentration. "What're you doin' with tha'?" he asked, so quietly that Daryl could barely make out his words. He was pointing at the gas can.

Daryl chuckled. It was the first time he'd heard the kid speak. "I'm gettin' fuel for the bus and my truck. We need it to make them work," he explained, and Asher nodded as if he understood.

Daryl could almost remember what it was like, acting like he understood things so his father would think he was smart. He faked his way through everything until he figured it out himself.

"C'mere," Daryl said, and stood up, hand outstretched for the kid to take it. He looked up at Danielle, and she smiled and nodded at him, so he took it as permission. Asher reached up and grasped his hand with his own tiny one, and Daryl led him over to the truck.

He opened the door and picked the kid up, settling him on his knee so he could see the dashboard. He pointed out the fuel gauge to the little boy, and continued his explanation. "See that there?" he asked, and the boy nodded quickly. "That lets you know how much longer the truck can go without more fuel. When this little bar is up here," he pointed to the 'Full' line, "it means you have a long while left. But when it gets down here," he pointed to the 'Empty' line', "well, that means your car might stop runnin'. You need to get more gas, or fuel, so the little bar will go back up to the top again. You understand?"

Asher's gaze moved from the gas gauge to Daryl's eyes, and he smiled. Daryl felt himself melt a bit, though he would never admit it in a thousand years, because Dixons don't _melt_, dammit, and he realized that this was also the first time he saw the kid smile.

The corner of his own mouth lifted, and he patted the kid on the head a little awkwardly before rising out of the truck and letting Asher stand on the asphalt again.

"Go on, then, kid. Yer mom's waitin'," Daryl said roughly, and Asher smiled at him again, then looked back down to his worn out sneakers.

"Thank you, Mr. Dixon," he whispered, and then he walked over to Danielle.

She grinned at him, but Daryl just ducked his head, and rubbed the back of his neck as he walked over to check the gas can. It should have long gotten as full at it was gonna get from that one car.

He could feel the group's eyes on him, though he never turned around.

They arrived at Fort Benning around noon. It was deserted.

Well, Daryl thought, that wasn't completely true. It was void of living people.

Dead ones, however, were everywhere.

They didn't stick around any longer than it took to see the destroyed buildings, and the bodies all over the ground. The reaching, grasping hands of the geeks followed them as they turned around to head back the way they came, but Daryl's truck and the bus sped out of there before they could get to them.

Time for Plan B, Daryl thought grimly.

It was too bad they'd never come up with a Plan B.


	6. Your words to me just a whisper

Chapter Six—Your words to me just a whisper, your face is so unclear

Daryl stepped carefully over the leaf-strewn ground, making his way back towards the quarry. The group had been holed up in the small, secluded area for a couple of weeks now. It was just a few miles outside of Atlanta, but there was a fresh supply of water, and the woods surrounding it had a decent amount of game.

All in all, it wasn't a bad place to stay.

He'd been out hunting for a few days, and had a line of squirrels and a few rabbits to show for it. It was Merle's turn next, and Daryl was looking forward to having a few nights' sleep in the tent, and not out in the forest.

He strode into the clearing, and made a beeline for his and Merle's tent, which was on the edge of camp. He set his game down, and grabbed a bucket so he could get to skinning the animals.

He passed people on the way to the water: Danielle and Asher, who both smiled at him—he smiled back, hesitantly—Janine and Jamie, who were coming back with a clean load of laundry, freshly washed, and who both excitedly greeted him. He nodded at them, and kept moving.

He saw Walsh in the water, obviously getting himself clean. Distractedly, Daryl hoped the man was dressed underneath the water. That was something he could live without seeing.

Daryl filled up the bucket, and headed back to his tent. When he settled outside of it, he quickly got to work. No use resting when there was still work to be done.

He'd also brought some thin sticks back, and he planned to fashion some more arrows out of them later. He figured he could get a couple of dozen done before it was his turn to hunt again, what with all the other chores he had to do.

He finished prepping his second squirrel, and had just picked up his third, when Merle sauntered over from where he'd been standing by the bus, chatting with Jamie and Janine. He whistled as he drew closer to Daryl.

"Whoo-ee, little brother, that girl sure is a fine piece o' meat," he said , and Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Which one Merle? The married one, or the one just outta high school?" he answered derisively.

Merle looked offended. "She's legal. 'sides, it's the end o' the world, Darlena! Now's not the time to be picky about who we bump uglies with." He grinned lasciviously.

Daryl ignored him, and focused on pulling the hide off of the squirrel in his hands.

He wished he were still in the woods. It was more difficult dealing with this shit, in his opinion. The interpersonal drama had started as soon as their lives weren't in immediate danger, and Daryl almost longed for the days when they had to fight off geeks at every turn.

After the group had left Fort Benning—what a fucking waste of gas that trip had been—and found the quarry, Merle had been obsessing over the little redhead, Jamie. Daryl was sick of it, to be honest.

He didn't care who got with who, or who wanted to be with who. He didn't give a fuck. He just wanted Rick, but that wasn't gonna happen, so he had to just keep his head down, and ignore the lingering looks that Merle shot that Jamie girl, or the longing glances that Daryl'd caught Danielle making at the married couple, Ben and Janine.

He'd found out, through Carol, that Danielle's husband, Asher's father, had been killed by a geek right when the outbreak really hit. She'd seen him get bit.

Daryl couldn't really imagine seeing something like that; watching someone you love get killed right in front of your eyes. And he'd seen some bad shit in his time.

Asher had seen it, too, and Daryl cringed when he thought about how that kid was gonna have to grow up.

Carol had told him that Jamie was a nursing student, and when Danielle picked her up in her car, right after her husband had been killed, their plan was to get to Atlanta, where their parents were.

They weren't sure what had happened to them, just like Daryl was still in the dark about where Rick was. He hoped, for their sake, that they'd made it out alive.

A large part of Daryl wanted to leave this quarry, this group, and go look for Rick. The problem was, he didn't know where he was, where to start looking, or… if he was even alive. His mind flinched away from that train of thought.

Of course Rick was alive. He had to be.

But Daryl couldn't just leave to go look for him, because, as far as he was concerned, going around in circles, and being lost, alone, in the middle of the fucking apocalypse was a death sentence. And he wouldn't be any good to Rick dead.

He'd use the group's moves to help him find Rick. They couldn't stay in this quarry forever. Sooner of later they'd move again, and when they did, Daryl would search for any sign of the person who meant most to him in the world. Guilt gnawed at his heart. He felt as if he was making the wrong decision.

But he knew, instinctually, that going off half-cocked and alone was not how he and Rick were going to see each other again. Rick had his parents, and hopefully Carl, to watch his back. And Daryl had his brother and this ragtag group.

Daryl's gaze shifted to the kid, who was sitting next to his mom on the ground. She'd apparently brought some of his toys when they fled, because she was playing with him, making noises and moving the little figures around. Asher was giggling like mad, the happiest Daryl'd seen him since they met.

Daryl knew that the kid, and his mom, and even the others to a lesser extent, were another reason he didn't want to just up and leave. He knew if he got a lead to Rick's whereabouts, he'd be out in a flash. But now? When he had no clue, and all these people looked to him for food? When the kiddo looked up at him, all curious and eager to learn, wanting to be a helpful member of the group when he was only five fucking years old?

No. Daryl couldn't just leave. They wouldn't survive long without him and Merle. And Daryl had no doubt that if he left, Merle would be right by his side.

Daryl moved on to skinning his first rabbit, as the squirrels were done. His mind wandered to Benjamin, or Ben, as he liked to be called, and Janine. The first night in the quarry, everyone had sat around a fire, relieved to have somewhere relatively safe to lay their heads for a while.

The group had taken turns telling a bit about themselves. Daryl'd only joined in because Carol had looked at him beseechingly, and Merle'd elbowed him in the ribs until he complied.

Of course, all he told them was that he was a mechanic. They didn't need to know anything else.

Ben had told everyone a bit more than that about his and Janine's live before all this shit happened. He was a software engineer, and Janine was a child psychologist. A little voice in Daryl's head immediately put them into the 'useless for now' category. They might develop survival skills later; hell, they had to, or they'd be geek bait. But right now, a computer geek and a shrink weren't gonna be much help in surviving.

The teachers—Carol, Lori Walker, Hershel Greene, Coach Douglas, Sophia, and Walsh— had all said a little about themselves. Walsh had sent the Dixon brothers a belittling glare when they'd mentioned the garage. Everyone else looked mildly impressed.

"Well, we're lucky to have at least two people who have skills that can help us survive this," Hershel had said, and Walsh had looked down at the ground, scowling fiercely.

Daryl had rolled his eyes, but he'd secretly appreciated the comment. He'd never disliked Principal Greene; he just didn't necessarily trust him. He hadn't trusted any adults in high school, not until Beth and Jimmy, and even that had taken a while.

Lori and Walsh had sat close together around the fire, and Merle's whispering dirty things about what they probably get up to in the woods when they go out 'searching for berries' had driven Daryl crazy ever since. He was almost glad they took turns hunting: it gave Merle less time to needle and pester him, like any big brother worth his salt.

Daryl finished up his last rabbit, and them tossed them into an empty bucket to carry them to Danielle and Ben, who did most of the cooking. Danielle was a waitress, who spent some time in the kitchen as a short-order cook when she could pick up extra shifts. Ben, on the other hand, was simply a man who loved meat, and therefore, knew how to cook it.

"Got enough here for a few days," he said as he lowered the bucket to the ground in front of their makeshift grill. They'd found some wire, and fashioned it into a kind of net-shaped thing, and they placed it over the fire to cook the meat.

"Wow, thanks Daryl. This is great," Danielle said as she tried to light the fire. Ben jogged over when he saw the bucket, and grinned at Daryl.

"Here, Dani," he said, and handed her a small book of matches. "Found 'em in my bag. It'll be faster than the old boy scout way, at least."

"Thanks," she said, and took them out of his hand. The fire was lit in under a minute, and she stood, brushing her pants off absentmindedly. "How long have you been huntin'?" she asked, her eyes fixed on Daryl's.

He shifted uncomfortably as he noticed that both of them were looking at him curiously. "Since I was a kid," he muttered. He started to say something else, when a shout stopped him short.

"I said 'no', can't you take a hint?" Jamie yelled, as she stormed away from Merle. Daryl narrowed his eyes at the scene, and he felt Danielle take a step forward as she watched as well.

"Aw, come on, princess. It's not like ya got a whole lotta options here. 'less you wanna spend some quality time Walsh," Merle said, grimacing when he spoke Walsh's name. "Can't imagine why you'd wanna, though—"

"Leave me alone," Jamie said, cutting him off. Merle was still following her, and she was resolutely looking away from him. He reached out a hand to grab her arm, and Daryl whistled to get his attention.

"Merle! C'mere, I got a question for you," he yelled, and jerked his head at the man.

His brother narrowed his eyes at him, hand still outstretched, but he slowly lowered it before stepping away from Jamie and towards Daryl.

Before he got there, Danielle whispered, "Thanks, Daryl," before walking over to her sister, who still looked aggravated.

Merle got close enough that Daryl could speak softly, and he angled his body so no one but Merle could see his expression. "What's goin' on?"

Merle gazed at him blankly, and shrugged. "Dunno whatcha mean, baby brother. I was jus' makin' friends."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Didn't look like she wanted your friendship."

Merle shrugged, unconcerned. "To be honest, I think she's got her sights set on someone else."

Daryl remained quiet. He didn't really care, he just wanted the fighting to stop.

"Don'tcha wanna know who?" Merle asked slyly.

Daryl shook his head. "Not really, Merle. Just… leave her be, alright? We got enough problems without your dick causin' more."

Merle chuckled. "Fine, fine. Just so's you know, it's _you_ that she's moonin' over, Darlena. Think it started when you were her knight in shinin' armor a few weeks back, when we first met 'em."

Daryl blinked, dumbfounded. Well, fuck.

Whatever. It's not like it made any difference.

He shrugged, and walked away, back to his tent. He wanted to catch some shut-eye before dinner.

Daryl was woken by the sound of a snapping twig outside his tent. His eyes opened, and he listened for further movement. When he heard another snap, he unsheathed his knife and moved into a crouch, his eyes on the entrance to the tent, which was zipped closed.

He watched as a shadow moved in front of the tent, and he relaxed. Only one person could be out there. It was too still to be a geek, and too small to be anyone but the kid.

He stood, sheathed his knife, and opened the tent, sticking his head out into the evening air. "Hey kiddo, what's up?" he asked hoarsely, his voice still rough from sleep.

Asher stood before him, toe dragging in the dirt, his eyes focused on Daryl's face curiously. "Coul' you show me how ta clean the squirrels?" he asked, his little voice high in excitement.

Daryl's brow furrowed. "You wanna skin a squirrel? You sure, kid? It's not fun; trust me."

Asher nodded eagerly, his green eyes bright and eager. "Yes, Mr. Dixon, please! I askeded my mama, an' she said I had ta ask you, an' if you say 'yes,' then it's okay, so please say 'yes' Mr. Dixon, 'cause I wanna learn ta clean the animals jus' like you!"

Daryl blinked at the speed of which all of this was said. Then he shrugged. "Sure, why not? Lemme go talk to your mama real quick, then we'll get started, alright?"

Asher bounced a bit in happiness as he nodded again, even more vigorously. Daryl chuckled, then grabbed his crossbow from just inside the tent—he didn't like to go anywhere without it—before putting his hand between the kid's shoulder blades, and leading him towards the rest of the group, who all seemed to be sitting around the campfire, chatting.

Daryl noticed that Merle was missing, and assumed he'd gone hunting already. A glance to the right confirmed that Walsh was on top of the bus, seated in a chair they'd placed up there, rifle resting in his lap as he took watch.

Daryl didn't feel any safer.

Danielle and Jamie looked up as he and walked up with the kid, and Daryl nodded to them. "Kid says he wants to learn to skin a squirrel, and that you said it's alright. That true?" he asked, not bothering with small talk.

Danielle, who seemed to know that Daryl wasn't one to make conversation just for the hell of it, simply nodded, smile still in place, and looked to her kid. "Did you ask Mr. Dixon politely, Asher?"

The kid nodded, and Daryl could feel his little body shivering in excitement though his hand, which was still on the kid's back. "Yes, ma'am."

Danielle raised her eyes to Daryl, and he shrugged at her. "'s fine by me. But I'm done with all the ones I had; gave 'em to you earlier." He looked down to talk directly to Asher. "Merle'll be back in a couple days, so I can show you then, alright kiddo?"

Asher beamed at him, and before Daryl could do anything to stop him, darted forward and wrapped his skinny arms around Daryl's hips, hugging him.

The hunter stood still for a moment, before awkwardly patting the boy on the head. Asher pulled back and smiled at him again, before moving to sit between his aunt and mother.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Daryl," Danielle said. "We saved you some food." She smiled. "If it weren't for you we wouldn't have even had anything to eat besides beans and canned peaches. Here, lemme go get it."

She made to stand up, but Jamie placed a hand on her arm to stop her. "I got it, sis, you stay with Asher."

Jamie stood, and smiled at Daryl before moving over to the makeshift grill, where they'd prepared the meal earlier. He followed her at a distance. She pulled a plate off the grill, which had been keeping it warm, and handed it to him. He nodded his thanks, and turned to walk back to his tent.

A hand on his arm stopped him, and he couldn't help but flinch away. He still didn't like people touching him.

No one but Rick.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Jamie said when he turned to face her. He shrugged. He'd gotten the meat just as much for himself and his as he did for everyone else. She grinned at him knowingly, and he bristled at how close she was standing to him.

Daryl backed up a step, but she followed. He cleared his throat, and shifted awkwardly on his feet. Why was she standing so fucking close?

"'s no problem. I'm gonna go eat," he muttered, and walked away. He heard her light laughter behind him, and he clenched his jaw.

Fucking women. More trouble than they were worth.

A few days passed, and Merle came back, hauling a deer behind him, squirrels hanging on a line across his shoulders.

"That's how it's done, brother," he said with a smug grin. Daryl rolled his eyes, but patted Merle on the shoulder. He was good in the woods and all, but Merle was fucking born for it.

He'd gotten even better in the last few years, because he used it to help him get off the shit he'd been taking. Merle'd been sober for five years straight, now, and had the hunting skills to prove it.

Daryl headed out into the brush after Merle settled in to skin the deer. He wanted to check the traps he'd set up, to see if he'd caught any game, or geeks. They didn't often get any of the undead up in the quarry, but it did happen occasionally.

So far, Daryl, Merle, and Ben were the only ones who'd taken care of one on their own. Walsh wanted to shoot one, once, but Danielle had pointed out that the noise might attract more of them, and, scowling, Walsh had desisted. Ben had taken one out with Daryl's extra knife, and the Dixon brothers were mildly impressed with him. He didn't even puke afterwards, though he did look a bit green.

It'd get easier with time, Daryl figured.

He was working his way through the traps when he heard the sound of something large moving through the trees. Then he heard a scream.

It sounded like the kid.

Hoisting his crossbow higher, Daryl ran towards the noise. He could hear scrabbling across the ground, and the snarls of a geek. He ran faster, and as he passed a cluster of trees, he saw them.

Asher was running, tears streaming down his face, and a geek was right on his tail. Daryl lifted his crossbow to shoot, but before he could, the kid went down, hard. He let out a high-pitched scream, and this time it wasn't just fear in his voice, but agonizing pain as well.

Daryl shot an arrow through the geek's head, and it collapsed before it reached the kid. He swung his bow around to his back, and ran to the kid, who was still howling in pain. He could hear yelling from far away, and figured it was Danielle and the others, looking for the little boy.

"Hey, kiddo," Daryl said, keeping his voice even and calm, "it's alright, buddy, nothin's gonna get ya. What hurts?" He knelt beside the kid, and placed his hand on the boy's head, trying to soothe him.

Asher had dissolved into sobs and hiccups as he clutched his ankle to him. His little face was pink and splotchy, and Daryl resisted the urge to pull him into a hug. "M-Mr. Dixon, I h-hurt my ankle," he said haltingly.

Daryl carefully pried the kid's fingers from his leg, and inspected the ankle without touching it.

Looked like a break.

Grimacing, Daryl placed one arm behind the kid's back, and the other under his legs, and scooped him up. "You're alright, kiddo. Let's take ya back to yer mom, ok?"

Asher nodded his head against Daryl's chest, and let out a little hiccup.

As he got nearer to the quarry, Daryl could hear Danielle and the others yelling Asher's name. "Got 'im!" he shouted, hoping they'd shut up before more geeks heard them.

"Asher!" Danielle gasped as they came into view. She ran to them, her hand outstretched to run her fingers through her son's hair. "What happened, baby? Where did you go? I told you not to leave the camp, why did you run off?" Her eyes took in his pained grimace, and she looked to Daryl, who was moving steadily toward Danielle's tent. "Is he hurt?" she asked, worry coating every word.

"He mights broke his ankle. Geek almost got 'im, and he tripped. He's alright, Danielle, don't worry," he said, and Danielle covered her mouth with a hand.

"Oh my God," she sobbed, and pulled open the tent flap so he could enter. She came in after him, followed by Jamie. "Can you get Sophia?" she asked her sister.

Jamie nodded, and ran out of the tent. Daryl set the kid down on a sleeping bag on the ground, and started to back away, but Asher's arm shot out and he grabbed Daryl's hand. "P-please don't go," he whispered.

Daryl knelt down next to him, unable to do anything else.

Jamie entered the tent again, this time with Sophia on her heels. The nurse carried a bag of supplies with her, and she started unloading it as she spoke to the boy. "Asher, I'm going to help you, okay? Now, I need you to be very brave, and try to hold still. Can you do that for me?" She met his eyes as she spoke, and her voice was calm and soothing.

The kid bit his lip, and his hand squeezed Daryl tighter as he nodded.

Sophia and Jamie spent the next twenty minutes setting the little boy's ankle, and wrapping it in gauze. The poor kid screamed in pain, his little voice hoarse and breathless. He kept a strong grip on Daryl's hand, and the man didn't move out of his reach the whole time. Danielle sat on his other side, running her hand over his hair and whispering words of comfort into his ear.

Finished at last, Asher laid down to rest his exhausted body, and Jamie helped Sophia clean up.

Danielle followed Daryl out of the tent, tears in her eyes. Thankfully, she kept a couple of feet away, but Daryl had a feeling that she wanted to hug him, but was holding back.

She put her hands in her back pockets and smiled tremulously up at him, her mouth quivering. "I have no way to thank you, Daryl. He's my whole life, and I owe it to you, now. If there's ever anything I can do for you, please. Don't hesitate to tell me," she said simply, and Daryl nodded, his head down.

"Need to talk to him, let him know it's not safe to wander. If I'd been any farther away…" Daryl said gruffly. He didn't want to tell the lady how to parent, but damn. Keep an eye on your fucking kid during the apocalypse, for God's sake.

Danielle nodded, her gaze downturned. Daryl watched as the tears brimmed over and trailed down her cheeks. "He saw your brother come back, and said he was gonna ask you to show him how to skin a squirrel. I saw you over there, and told him he could, but… you must've left right after. He went in there to find you, and I just… Dammit!" she said hoarsely, and Daryl grimaced in sympathy. "I should've stayed with him, I shouldn't have taken my eyes off him for one second, I just got distracted, and…"

She let out a sob, and Daryl placed a hand on her shoulder. He felt the tremors wrack through her body, and he squeezed his hand more tightly. "It's alright, he'll be fine. We all make mistakes, we just gotta make sure we don't repeat 'em."

Danielle nodded, and looked up at him. "Thank you," she whispered again, and he nodded before stepping away.

"Tell him I'll show him how to clean game tomorrow, if that's okay," he said. "I figure he should stay off that ankle."

She smiled and nodded. "Okay. I'll bring him over in the morning."

Daryl agreed, and walked to his tent.

The next morning, Daryl sat outside his and Merle's corner of camp, listening to his brother snore inside. He watched as Danielle went in and out of her tent, carting plates and cups, presumably Asher's breakfast. When she dropped the dirty dishes off with Janine, and went back inside her tent, Daryl stood and walked over.

"Hello?" he said as he stood outside, shifting on his feet. The tent flap was pulled aside, and Daryl was met with Danielle's smiling face and, over her shoulder, he could see Asher beam at the sight of him.

"Mr. Dixon!" the kid yelled, and Danielle laughed as she moved aside to let Daryl in.

"How ya doin', kiddo?" Daryl asked, kneeling beside the boy, who was still lounging on the sleeping bag.

"I broke my ankle, Mr. Dixon!" Asher said happily. Then he grimaced when his exuberance caused his leg to shift. "Ow… and it hurts if I move it."

Daryl tsked in sympathy. "I know, buddy, broken bones can hurt. I figured I'd show you how to clean a squirrel today, keep your mind off that ankle. What d'ya say?"

Asher visibly stopped himself from wriggling in excitement, but he did nod vigorously. "Okay!"

Danielle came up to kneel next to Asher's other side. "You have to promise to be polite, and listen to what Mr. Dixon tells you, okay Asher?"

The kid nodded again, his face alight with joy.

"I'll take him," Daryl grunted, and Danielle nodded her consent. Daryl lifted the kid up like he'd done the day before, and the boy wrapped his arms around Daryl's neck.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but Daryl always kind of wished he had a kid. It was the only part of being with a man that he wished he could change. Of course, there was always adoption, or something else, like a surrogate, but the idea of himself as a father had always stopped him from broaching the subject with Rick.

He had too many memories of being beaten by his own father to want to continue the Dixon line. He couldn't be sure that he wouldn't be just like his old man.

If he'd mentioned those thoughts to Rick, of course, the man would've told him he was ridiculous. And maybe he was. But he couldn't take that chance.

Rick would've been an excellent father, Daryl thought as he set the kid down on the log outside of his and Merle's tent. They could still hear Merle's snores emanating through the vinyl. The kid giggled, and looked up at Daryl with big, trusting eyes, and Daryl swallowed hard before moving away to grab a squirrel.

Rick was the first and only person to look at him like he trusted Daryl completely. In high school, it had baffled him, how the boy could put so much faith into someone he barely knew. But that was Rick: going on his gut instinct. And not a damn thing, not even Daryl, had convinced him he was wrong.

Daryl was still thankful for that.

He sat next to Asher and picked up a squirrel. Time to show the kid how to get his hands dirty.

Rick paced in front of the window for what had to be the eightieth time. He needed to get the hell out of here.

He had to find Daryl.

Rick, Carl, and their parents had holed up in the cabin for the last few weeks, ever since Rick had found his brother there. After making sure Carl had locked himself back in the small house, Rick had gone back to the car and found his parents. Together, they'd gathered all of their supplies and joined Carl.

The reunion had been joyous and heart wrenching, full of tears and hugs. Beth had set Carl's arm, which was in pretty rough shape, and they'd decided to stay here for a while, until Carl was feeling better. As it was, he'd have a hard time defending himself.

When they'd run short on food, Rick had shown his dad how to set traps in the woods to catch rabbits and squirrels, and they'd set a least two dozen of them. Rick's heart clenched as he remembered the day Daryl had taught him how to assemble those traps, his voice teasing and full of love.

He'd always given Rick a hard time about being a 'city boy,' but Daryl could never completely hide the fact that he loved teaching Rick how to hunt, and skin his kills. Rick wished Daryl could see him now, so that he would know that Rick had listened during all of those hunting trips.

Daryl was saving all of them, and he wasn't even there.

Rick sighed, and stopped pacing to stare out of the window. They'd subsisted on cans of beans and vegetables that they'd lifted out of an abandoned market a few towns back during their search for Carl, along with a few bites of meat each night. Rick and Jimmy had caught a few animals everyday so far. But their luck was bound to run out sometime.

Carl's voice carried through the house as he spoke with Beth. She was checking on his arm, and noting its progress. "Yeah, mom, it's a lot better now. My range of motion is improvin'. I'm pretty sure I could hold a rifle now. And you know I'm right handed, so I can definitely handle a knife or pistol," he said.

Rick smiled. He knew Carl was anxious to get out of here, too. He felt responsible for splitting his brother and Daryl up, though Rick had told him countless times that it wasn't his fault. Still, Rick appreciated having Carl's support in their arguments with Jimmy, who wanted stay just a bit longer. Their dad felt that his family was somewhat safe for the first time since this whole thing started, and Rick didn't blame him for wanting to stay.

But he couldn't wait much longer.

Just as he was about to turn towards the kitchen, where he could still hear his mom and Carl talking, something caught his eye. He gasped as he realized it was, in fact, several somethings.

And they were moving straight for the cabin.

"Walkers!" he shouted, and all three of them came running. Carl pulled the safety back on his pistol and his dad loaded a shell in the shotgun. His mom came up behind them, clutching a fire poker, her eyes wide.

They watched as dozens of walkers came out of the trees, surrounding the cabin in droves. As it was, they wouldn't have time to gather supplies before leaving, if that's what they decided to do.

Unfortunately, Rick didn't see that they had much choice, for the cabin wasn't sturdy enough to stand up to the mob that was soon going to be pressed upon it.

"We need to leave, Dad. Now," Rick said hoarsely.

His father's jaw set, and he nodded. "Grab what you can on your way out, but make sure you can run," he replied shortly, and they all moved to the kitchen, towards the back door. Rick grabbed his bag, which he'd kept packed with ammo and a bit of food, as his mom grabbed her medical bag. Jimmy picked up the cutlery set they'd found in the cabin, which they'd wrapped in linen for traveling. Carl simply picked up the car keys, and walked to the door, peering around the edge cautiously.

"It's clear. Let's go," he whispered, and he opened the door and stepped out. They descended the stairs, Jimmy in front and Rick in the back, with Carl and Beth in the middle. They ran for the trees, which were thirty yards out from the house.

About a dozen walkers had made it around to that side of the house, but none were in range of the family as they breached the forest line. They moved quickly, keeping their feet as light as possible and staying in formation.

Rick heard a snarl to his right, and when he saw his mom slow down to turn around, he pushed her forward. "Go! I got it!" he said, as he angled his body towards the walker that he knew was only a few feet away.

Sure enough, the tree branches, whose leaves hung all the way to the forest floor, shifted open, and a growling walker came stumbling out after him. Rick took a step back when the thing that used to be a man reached for him, then quickly moved around the walker and slammed his knife into its skull.

It fell to the ground, and Rick looked up to find himself alone.

He breathed in and out, steadily. His eyes shifted from tree to tree, watching for movements, and his ears listened closely for any voices, or branches snapping under the heavy weight of a body. They perked up when he heard scuffling, maybe a dozen yards in front of him.

He moved swiftly, his knife held at the ready. He heard a grunting noise as he cleared another cluster of trees, and then he saw Carl, his left arm held tightly to his side, his face pale and sweaty as he tried to hold off a walker with his good arm. His pistol lay discarded on the forest floor, probably dropped during the scuffle.

Jimmy and Beth were also fighting for their lives. Surprisingly, Beth was doing the best in fighting her attacker off, hitting the thing in the head with the poker until it stuck in the walker's brain. She leapt back as the zombie collapsed at her feet.

She moved to help Jimmy, who was trying and failing to retrieve the knives he'd picked up earlier, as a walker had him pinned to a tree, it's teeth a few inches from his neck. Rick darted forward to kill the undead bastard that was trying to get Carl. His brother shot him a grateful grin, and they moved as a unit to help their dad.

However, Beth surprised them all again. Before they could reach them, Beth had retrieved her poker out of the walker's head, and let out an animalistic scream as she hurled it against the other one's skull. Jimmy shoved it in the chest, and as it turned towards Beth, she hit it again.

This time, it went down like the others.

All three men stood, staring, at the woman in the family. Their mouths were agape as they watched her breathe heavily, and lean down to rip the poker free from yet another skull. She tenderly picked up some leaves from the ground floor and wiped off some of the blood, before looking up at her boys. Her eyes widened at the looks she received.

"What?" she said shortly.

Jimmy shook his head. "Beth, honey…"

She huffed, impatiently. "What?" she repeated. "Didn't think I could take 'em?" She met their shocked stares with a challenging one of her own.

"No," Jimmy said slowly, "I was just gonna say that I'm gonna miss the cabin. What with the private room and all."

Beth giggled as their sons cringed and Carl said, "Ugh, Dad!"

Then they got the hell out of there.

The Grimes family made it back to the car, and Carl tossed his dad the keys, then joined Rick in the backseat.

"Where are we going?" Beth asked. "Does anyone have a plan? 'Cause I sure as hell don't."

Carl shook his head, and looked at Rick, who shrugged.

Jimmy sighed, his eyes on the road as he drove. "Well, we only have enough gas for a few hours of driving. Son, I know you wanna find Daryl, and believe me, I do, too. But it's gettin' dark, and we won't be able to see anything in a couple of hours."

Rick nodded. "I know. Figure we should find somewhere to hunker down, then start fresh tomorrow?"

"Sure, but where?" Carl asked.

"Maybe we should think of somewhere we could stay. Use it as a base, of sorts. Go out every day and look for Daryl and Merle, but come back every night. It feels safer than trying to find a new place every night," Beth offered.

Rick's eyes narrowed as his mind raced. He knew it was a long shot, but he felt like it was worth considering. "Maybe we should try the CDC."

Jimmy inhaled sharply. "Rick, you know that Atlanta was—"

"I know," Rick interrupted. "But if anyone knows what the hell is going on, it's them, right?"

Beth's brow furrowed, and she looked at her husband. "He has a point, Jimmy. It might be worth the risk. If he's right, maybe they have people who could help us search, or at least offer us shelter at night."

"Yeah, Dad, we should go," Carl chimed in, and Jimmy sighed again.

"Okay. Maybe you're right. I hope you are," he said quietly, and he turned the car back towards Atlanta.

What they saw when they arrived at the CDC was more than enough to crush what little hope remained for the world at large.

Where there once stood a building, now was a smoldering ruin. It looked as if an explosion had destroyed it. And night was falling.

Cursing under his breath, Jimmy punched the gas, running over the walkers that were trying to climb onto the hood of the car.

It looked like they'd have to think of a Plan B.


	7. Cause I'm not living

Chapter Seven—Cause I'm not living, I'm not living anyway

When Rick first saw her, he thought she was a walker. But then, he noticed that she was talking to herself. Muttering and gesturing to the air in front of her.

He was worried that she might have broken her mind in this new world, but neither he nor his family could leave her out there to defend herself. Jimmy pulled over behind her.

It wasn't until Rick was right next to her that he recognized her. It was Amy. The girl that Daryl… was with at before he and Rick got together. Daryl had told him about her, and the others. It had stung, just a bit, but really only because it meant the bar had to be awfully high for the virginal Rick.

Daryl had assured him that there was a big difference in fucking someone to get off, and having sex with someone you love. Rick had never done the former, but had to agree that the latter was quite spectacular.

Rick approached Amy slowly, and realized that she was saying, "No, she's not, she's not. You just have to go back and see, go back again and…"

He cut her off as gently as he could, Beth behind him. Jimmy and Carl were by the car, within firing range if things got hairy, but far enough away that they didn't crowd her.

"Amy?" he said softly. She stopped talking, and looked at him in amazement. There was blood all over her face and arms, but Rick didn't see any obvious bite marks.

"They… they took her. They took my sister," she said. She seemed more coherent now that she had someone to talk to.

Rick's brow furrowed in concern. "Who did?"

"Those things!" she yelled, and Rick winced at her volume. The last thing they needed was more walkers.

"I'm sorry, Amy. I'm sorry you lost your sister." Rick hesitated only a moment before continuing. "Do you have anyone else waiting for you around here? Any friends, family?"

Amy nodded slowly. "We have a group, Andrea and me." Her eyes filled with tears, and one fell as she spoke. "They're in town hall. We holed ourselves up, and only come out for supplies. Andrea and I…" Her voice broke. "We were surrounded. I made it, but…" She met his eyes pleadingly. "Can you take me back to them?"

Rick nodded, and placed a hand on her shoulder to guide her to the car. Carl gave him a wide-eyed look as he passed, and Rick shook his head for him to knock it off.

Amy sat in the backseat between Rick and Carl, and she gave directions to Jimmy on how to get to town hall in the little town they'd stumbled upon earlier.

Beth had decided that they desperately needed more food before they did anything else. Even if they found suitable shelter, they were unlikely to be able to defend themselves for much longer due to their malnutrition over the last week.

Rick and his parents had been searching fro Daryl and Merle since leaving the cabin, but without success, which wasn't surprising, as they had no idea where to start, other than the fact that they were supposed to meet in Atlanta.

Jimmy stopped the car in front of town hall and turned to face Rick. She narrowed her eyes, and he saw true comprehension in them for the first time. "You're Rick Grimes," she said, and he nodded.

"Yeah, I am," he replied. She nodded, as if thinking to herself. Then she seemed to come to a decision. "Y'all should come in, at least for the night. It'll be gettin' late soon, and we got some decent food."

Beth met Jimmy's eyes, and he shrugged. Carl looked at Rick pleadingly. His stomach had stopped protesting at this point, it was so empty.

At last, Jimmy looked to Rick, and his son nodded. Jimmy met Amy's eyes. "We'd love to. Thanks."

They all got out of the car, and Amy walked in first, so the lookouts wouldn't be tempted to shoot first and ask questions later. They entered the building as were met with a disheveled young man that Rick recognized right away.

"Glenn!"

The man looked up from where he was inspecting Amy for injuries, and his face brightened. "Rick! Oh my God, what the heck are you doin' here?"

Rick shook his head. "Survivin', man. Just tryin' to survive. Found Amy out on the road, and asked her if she needed a ride. She invited us in for the night, if that's okay."

Glenn nodded. "Of course, that's fine." His eyes finally left the blood-covered girl and scanned the group before him. Then they swept the group again, more slowly this time. "Uh… Amy? Where's Andrea?"

At that, Amy burst into tears and fell to her knees. Beth dropped down beside her, and Rick moved forward to pull Glenn aside. "I dunno what happened, exactly, but… Amy said her sister is gone. I'm sorry."

Glenn's face became pained, and he swallowed harshly. "Oh. Fuck."

Beth looked up from where she was crouched next to the girl. "She's in shock. Glenn, is it? We need to get her lying down, and she's going to need fluids."

Glenn nodded quickly, and headed to the room at the of the hall. He returned less than a minute later with a couple of men, who both were unfamiliar to Rick. One of them, a man around Rick's age, with glasses and longish hair, fell down beside Amy and pulled her to an embrace. She didn't hug him back, but she did relax minutely into his arms.

The other man spoke with Glenn for a moment before turning to the group. He gave them a strained smile. "Hi, everyone. I'm John. I'm gonna show you where you can bunk down, and then where we eat. Can I get your names?"

Beth stood up from where she'd been crouched, but stayed close to Amy. "I'm Beth."

"Jimmy," Rick's dad said, and he reached forward and shook John's hand.

"That's Rick," Glenn said, "my friend from school. His eyes shifted to Carl. "Holy shit! Is that you, Carl? I haven't seen you in years, but damn, you've grown!"

Carl smiled uncomfortably and shrugged.

John nodded to them, and walked towards the room he'd exited from. Beth remained where she was. "I'm staying with Amy. I'll meet y'all later," she called, and them shooed Jimmy away when he offered to stay with her.

The men walked into a large room, and Rick saw Maggie sitting on a bunk bed near the entrance. She looked up as they came in, and she ran to Rick and embraced him. "Oh, Rick, it's so good to see you," she said as she pulled away. He hand automatically went to her belly, which wasn't as flat as the last time Rick had seen it.

Granted, it had been a few years ago, so there was always the possibility that she'd just gained weight, but still….

Rick decided not to ask. If he was wrong, he didn't want to incur the wrath of a woman.

"You, too, Maggie. You and Glenn all right? How did y'all make it here?" Rick asked. He waved his dad and brother along, not wanting to hold them up while he spoke.

"We ran out of gas, and started walking. Dale came by with his RV and picked us up. He already had a few people in there with him, others that he'd saved. Then that ran out of gas, and we stuck together. We found this place, and decided to fortify it and stay here," she said, and Rick's eyes widened at the familiar name.

"Dale? Dale Horvath?" he asked.

Maggie nodded before comprehension dawned. "That's right, Daryl bought his garage, didn't he? And he worked for him for years before that."

Rick's heart clenched at the sound of Daryl's name, but he answered with an even voice. "Yeah."

Maggie's expression changed to confusion and apprehension. "Where is Daryl?"

Rick shook his head. "We had to split up, and were supposed to meet up in Atlanta, but after the bombs went off…" He sighed. "Now, we're lookin' for he and Merle both, but no luck so far."

The sympathy on her face made Rick want to cringe. "I'm sorry, Rick. I'll try to help any way I can."

"Thanks. Listen, I better get to my family. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

Maggie smiled. "Okay. See you later."

Rick walked quickly to the other side of the room, where he saw his dad pulling clothing out of his bag and shaking the items out.

"I can't believe we'll have beds to sleep in," Jimmy said, pointing out the cots around them. Rick raised an eyebrow, and Jimmy shrugged, smiling. "Well, kinda."

Rick moved to one of the empty cots and put his bag down. He sat beside it, and rested his head in his hands, rubbing his face. "How long're we gonna stay here, Dad? I want to go out and look for Daryl, and I can do it around here just fine for a couple weeks, but sooner or later I'm gonna want to travel out and search farther than is feasible if I have to come back here every night."

Jimmy sat beside him on the cot, and placed his hand on Rick's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You know I wanna find Daryl, too, son. And I don't think you should stop, but let's just use this time, just for the next week or so, to get our bearings and maybe come up with a long-term plan. If you and I have to go out and search, and then set up camp for a few days because it's farther away from wherever we decide to plant roots, then so be it. We'll figure it out, alright?"

Rick nodded, and sighed. He trusted his Dad, probably more than he trusted anyone, and he knew that he would never give up on the search for Daryl.

They'd just have to figure it out as they went.

Over the next week, Rick realized that it was unlikely that they would leave anytime soon. At least, not without the group coming with them. It seemed that Andrea had been the leader, and now that she was dead, no one was willing to step up and take her place.

Now, people were coming to Jimmy with their problems, and he was unwilling to tell them to go somewhere else. Rick guessed that it was the nonprofit lawyer in him, but if there was a problem that his dad could fix, then there was no way he could turn his back on it. That was just against his nature.

Unfortunately, that also meant that the Grimes were more than likely stuck here.

Despite wanting to leave, Rick was glad to have found some people that he knew, since it meant they were still alive. He'd gone to greet Dale shortly after his conversation with his father on the first day. The man had shown great relief to see that Rick was still alive, but, of course, shared his worry over Daryl's fate. Rick didn't really want to talk about Daryl, and the possibility that he might not have survived this long, but felt he owed it to Dale, who'd always treated both of the Dixon brothers with respect and kindness.

Aside from Glenn, Maggie, Amy, Dale, and the man that showed them around, John, there were two other people in the group. Amy's boyfriend, a man named Tommy, was a former government employee who worked with computers. Rick didn't know much about the man, but he seemed a lot tougher than the average computer geek, in his opinion. At least, he'd adapted to this strange new world quickly enough to survive it so far.

There was also a girl named Aiden, who Amy, Tommy, and Andrea had found in an abandoned store on a run a week or so after the outbreak really hit. She didn't talk much, but Rick had learned that both of her parents had been killed. He figured she was around 17, and had long dark hair and pale skin. She had sad eyes, though, and he wondered if that was the case before a few weeks ago or if it was a recent development.

Beth was becoming more and more important everyday, as well. She was the only person with any medical training, and as a nurse she was helping the people who came down sick, and others who came back from runs with injuries.

No one had gotten bit in the days since the Grimes had joined the little group, but it was a fear that hovered over everyone. It was this fear that had Beth, Jimmy, and even Carl wanting to stick with the group. They felt there was safety in numbers.

Rick wasn't so sure. But he also didn't want to leave the group open to the walkers, and even he would admit that they were pretty fucking vulnerable right now. Their leader was dead, and as far as Rick could tell, they only had one person who was very good at runs: Glenn. And they weren't trying to teach everyone how to do everything, which seemed only logical when people were dying more and more easily.

Eight days after they stumbled upon the group, Rick and Glenn were on a run to gather more medical supplies, and Glenn asked him if his family was planning on staying.

Rick said yes. He saw no other outcome, to be honest. He knew his priorities were slightly different for his family, as they prized staying alive higher than finding Daryl. And Rick understood that.

But he couldn't say the same for himself.

Rick loved his family. He would die for them in a heartbeat, and he would give anything for them to be safe. Unfortunately, in this world, that was virtually impossible.

But Rick had been in love with Daryl since he was seventeen years old. He couldn't say that he would let himself die if Daryl had already been killed, because he had his family to live for. But he could honestly say that his motivation to stay alive would be gone.

Rick didn't have a life worth living if it didn't include Daryl. He had to find him.

Later that night, after Glenn and Rick brought Beth the supplies, Rick pulled his Dad aside to let him know he'd be starting his search again the next day.

Jimmy nodded, and didn't attempt to change his mind, which Rick appreciated. "Take the car, then. And ask Carl to come along. His arm is almost healed, and you could use the backup."

Rick agreed, and after Carl agreed to go with him, prepared the car for a few days' journey. They left early the next morning, just as the sun was coming up.

They headed for Atlanta.

Tensions in the quarry were rising, and Daryl was sick and fucking tired of it. Most of it had to do with either his brother or Walsh—and often both of them, as they couldn't go a day without squabbling over something.

To top it off, the old man, Hershel—Daryl could finally get his mind to stop calling him Principal Greene—was talking about leaving and trying to find his daughter, Maggie. Daryl hadn't seen her much since school, but he knew that Rick was still kind of friends with her and the kid she'd been with since high school. Glenn, he thought his name was.

Unfortunately, Hershel had no clue where Maggie might be, and he had slim to little chance of staying alive long enough to find her. There was not two ways to put it, so Daryl told him outright why he should stay put: he was fucking old.

"I'm aware of that, son," Hershel replied calmly, and Daryl's hands clenched into fists at the endearment. "But, you see, that's not necessarily a bad thing. I'm ready to meet the Lord whenever he sees fit to call me, but I want to at least try to find my daughter before that happens. If I get killed, but I never even lifted a finger to see her again, I could never forgive myself."

Daryl shook his head in exasperation. "You won't need no forgiveness, old man. You'll be dead. Just… stick around a while longer. We can't stay in this quarry forever. Sooner or later we'll have to leave, and maybe we can search for her, and everyone else we're missin', together."

Hershel's head cocked to the side, and Daryl grimaced at the curious look angled his way. "You know, Mr. Dixon, despite what you might've thought in high school, I was neither deaf nor blind. I knew that you and Mr. Grimes were an item. According to Rick's younger brother, you still were as of a few months ago, when last I spoke to him. Is that still true?"

Daryl studied the ground, and shifted uncomfortably. He nodded reluctantly, and looked up to meet Hershel's sympathetic gaze. "He wasn't…"

Daryl shook his head. "We got separated. My brother was in the woods, and his never came home from Atlanta, so…" He shrugged. "We were supposed to meet there, but, after what we saw…"

Hershel's' eyes widened. "You don't think he was there, when the bombs went off?"

Daryl's eyes narrowed, revealing his irritation. "If I knew that, I'd be a fuckin' psychic wouldn't I? I don't fuckin' know, okay? I left him, and now he's God knows where."

Hershel raised his hand in a calming fashion, and Daryl huffed out a breath like he was a bull, frustrated with the old man, and himself. Hell, he was pissed at the whole fucking situation.

"Look, Mr. Green, just… stay here, alright? We got others we're lookin' for, too. We'll have to leave at some point, and we'll try to find your daughter. But you don't stand much of a chance alone. There's safety in numbers at the end of the world."

Hershel gave him a wry smile, and nodded, temporarily appeased. Daryl knew this situation would come up again, with someone else if not with Mr. Greene, but he hoped they'd be on their way soon enough. He was ready to get searching fro Rick again, and he was fucking irritated at how long they'd been in one place.

He understood the false sense on security that staying in one place gave the city folks, but he had to start convincing them soon that it was time to move on. And the sooner, the better.

On his way to the lake, Daryl heard a yell, and his head jerked up and around to take in the scene before him. Walsh and Merle were at it again, and this time it looked like practically the whole group was crowded around to listen to them.

"—c'mon, Danielle, Jamie, you gotta admit that I'm right. I mean, the _Dixon brothers_?" Walsh was saying, and Daryl started over to them. This wasn't gonna end well. "Why the hell are we listenin' to a coupla _mechanics_ in the first place?"

Merle snorted, his hands clenched in white fists and his jaw set. "Tha's righ'. We should listen to a washed up teacher who bullies his students and bones his boss instead," he replied, and Daryl knew he wouldn't make it in time.

Walsh jumped on his brother, and Lori screamed as his fist connected. Daryl ran, and heard Merle grunt as he got a punch to the stomach. Merle's knee came up, just missing Walsh's groin, and he used the man's evasive maneuver to shift his weight, causing Walsh to fall off of him. Merle straddled him and started to ram his clenched fists into the man's face.

The women in the group were yelling for them to stop, and Lori was crying uselessly. Ben and Coach Douglas were trying to pull Merle off, but were ineffective against the man's rage. Daryl saw Hershel making his way over just as he finally reached them. He grabbed his brother's arms and pulled him into a full nelson. Merle struggled, but at Daryl's low warning—"stop fightin' or I'll run over your bike with my truck"—Merle growled and desisted.

Daryl hauled him off of Walsh, who was bloody and cursing, but not seriously injured. Merle could've done a lot worse if he'd wanted to.

The Dixons walked away from the group, who were all watching Merle cautiously.

"Keep him on a fucking leash!" Walsh bellowed at Daryl, and to his surprise, Coach Douglas answered before Daryl could.

"You fucking started it, man, so watch your mouth. Don't antagonize people if you're not ready to face the consequences," he said calmly, and Walsh stared at him in shock. Well, shit. Guess he'd have to call him T-Dog then.

Lori glared at Daryl and Merle, then T-Dog, who shrugged at her. She knelt beside Walsh and started to wipe the blood off gently. "How could you say that? Merle was just as culpable, and he provoked Shane!"

T-Dog snorted. "Provoked, my ass. Told the truth is more like it." At Lori shocked, wide-eyed stare, the man rolled his eyes. "You forget I worked there, too?" He looked to Walsh. "I know how you treat the kids you don't like. And I know you're sleepin' with your boss." His eyes flickered to Lori and back to Walsh.

Danielle, who had been watching the entire exchange, cleared her throat. "Right, well. I'm glad that's out of y'all's systems, 'cause we have chores to do around here. Jamie, Janine, Carol? Will y'all help me gather the clothes to wash?" She shifted Ahser higher up on her back where he was seated. It was usually Daryl or Merle carting the boy around, but she'd given them a break earlier. That was a good thing, in hindsight, given the current situation.

The women joined her and walked away from the group. Danielle shot them one last exasperated look, Asher clutching her neck tightly as he looked at Daryl with wide, curious eyes.

Ben spoke up next. "I've got some meat to cook. T-Dog, want me to teach you how to use the grill?"

Daryl almost laughed at the half-assed excuse to get gossip, as the grill was the simplest fucking creation at camp. But T-Dog agreed enthusiastically, and they left as well. Hershel left next, not even bothering to make up an excuse.

Lori watched them leave, and then looked to Sophia, who seemed as if she was holding in a laugh. "Could you help him?"

Sophia moved forward, and knelt on his other side. She examined his face carefully, turning his face this way and that to assess the damage. Finished, she drew back and sighed. "Come on, Shane, let's get you some bandaids," she said with mock compassion, and Walsh sneered at her before getting to his feet and storming off. Lori shot her a glare before following after him.

Sophia turned towards Daryl and Merle, and when she met their eyes she burst into laughter. They couldn't help but crack smiles, as well.

"What a pussy," Merle muttered. "I pulled almost all o' my punches."

Sophia shook her head in amusement, still giggling, as she walked to her tent.

Daryl and Merle went to their corner of camp, settling in on the log in front of their tent. Daryl sighed. "You gotta ignore Walsh, man. I know he's a dumb fuck, but just walk away. We got enough fuckin' drama without havin' to start more."

Merle laughed. "Whatcha talkin' 'bout, Darlena? The fights is what keeps everyone entertained. It's harmless. What's out there," he pointed in the general direction of Atlanta, "that shit ain't. And me and Walsh fightin'? It gets their minds offa the fact that we might all die today. Y'know?"

Daryl studied the dirt under his feet, his stomach sinking. He understood what his brother was saying, and he hated to admit that it made sense. People were dying all the time, and they could be next.

Rick could be next.

He shook his head, and clapped Merle on the shoulder before standing and climbing into the tent.

Whether the group needed it or not, Daryl was tired of the fucking drama.

Daryl was in his tent later that night when he heard light footsteps crunching outside. Merle snorted in his sleep, but didn't wake. At first, he thought it might be a geek, but the steps were too light and even. He then quickly dismissed the idea that it was Asher, because the kid's footsteps barely made a noise unless he stepped on something that snapped.

He rose from his sleeping bag, and unzipped the tent to peek outside. He was met with the sight of Jamie, a hesitant and hopeful look on her face as she shifted on her feet in nervousness.

What the hell did she have to be nervous about? Daryl wasn't gonna bite her head off.

"Hey, Daryl," she said quietly, her eyes shifting inside the tent quickly before shifting back to him. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Daryl shook his head and stepped fully out into the moonlight. "Nah. What's up?"

"Nothin', I just… wanted to talk to you about somethin'," she said, and Daryl sighed as her eyes moved to the tent again.

"Look, if this is about Merle, I've asked him to leave you alone. I know he's a pain in the ass, but he's harmless, alrigh'? He's all talk. I dunno what else you expect me to do—"

Jamie held up her hands to stop him. "No, no, that's not what this is about. I mean," she laughed a bit, "your brother _is_ a pain in the ass, but that's not on you. I actually came out here to ask if you, well… if you have someone… waiting for you somewhere?"

Daryl's brow furrowed in confusion as she blushed a bright red. "What?"

Jamie studied her feet as if there was gospel written on the tops of her shoes. "After you saved me, I sort of… started to like you?" She said it like a question, and Daryl gazed at her, unsure of where this was going.

She looked up, and seeing his blank expression, rolled her eyes self-consciously. "_Like you_, like you, Daryl. And I've really grown to care about you in the last few weeks. I just- didn't know if you have someone, or, maybe, you're just not interested." Her eyes widened when comprehension dawned on Daryl's face. "I don't wanna make this weird, God, I'm so sorry. If you don't feel the same, it's fine, just, oh shit, I should go—"

"Jamie," Daryl cut her off abruptly, ending her babbling. She looked up at him apprehensively. "I'm not, I mean. It's not you, it's just." Daryl huffed out a breath, irritated with himself. "I have someone, and we got separated. But I'm still lookin', and… no. I'm sorry." He tried to make his tone as gentle as possible.

This was fucking weird. He'd never turned down someone nicely before. And Jamie was a good person, he felt bad for her, but shit, she'd only known him a few weeks, how much could this possibly hurt her?

He ignored the small voice in his head that reminded him of how fast he'd fallen for Rick.

A sympathetic expression crossed Jamie's face, and she looked like she was fighting the impulse to reach out and touch him. "I'm so sorry, Daryl. I hope you find her. Really."

Daryl didn't bother to correct her. He just nodded his thanks, and watched her walk away, ensuring that she got safely back to the tent that she shared with Danielle and the kid before climbing back into his own.

He stretched out on his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, but they shot back open when he heard a chuckle beside him.

"You sure are popular 'round here, Darlena. Apocalypse is good for your sex life, huh?" Merle said, and Daryl turned his back on him.

"Shut the fuck up, Merle," he muttered, and his brother fell silent, realizing he'd hit a sore spot.

Neither one said anything else before they both fell asleep.

The next day, the tension seemed to have broken between most of the members of the group. Jamie had taken Daryl's rejection in stride, and wasn't treating him any differently, which was a bit of a relief if he were being honest with himself.

Most everyone steered clear of Walsh, as no one wanted to deal with his loud mouth. Everyone except Lori, anyway, who hovered around him as if she thought she could stop him from fighting anymore.

It was Daryl's turn to cart the kid around for a few hours, so he used the time to gather wood for the group. He only went a couple yards into the trees, not far enough to be vulnerable to attacks. He was bending down to gather a bunch of branches when the kid started his chatting.

"Hey, Mr. Dixon, how many squirrels have ya killed? A lot, I bet. Did ya hafta kill ta eat 'fore all the people started tryin' ta eat each other? Did ya ever hafta kill one o' those things? I heard tha' ya killed some ta save Auntie Jamie before, is tha' true? Is is hard ta kill one? Can you teach me? I think I'd wanna throw a knife at it, that way it can't get me, and—"

"Kid," Daryl said through his laughter. "Dunno how y'expect me to answer a question if you keep askin' more."

"Sorry, Mr. Dixon!" the kid squeaked, and Daryl shook his head in amusement. Kid was too chatty for his own good.

Daryl took his time answering the kid's questions one by one, trying to teach the kid patience, and probably failing spectacularly. He decided to ask Danielle if he could teach the kid to throw a knife after his ankle healed. It was better if the kid could at least defend himself a bit if he ever had to. Daryl and the others would try their best to protect him, like always, but you could never know what was gonna happen.

After they—or Daryl, really—carried the wood back to camp, Daryl walked over to Danielle, who was hanging the washed laundry up to dry. She smiled as he approached.

"Hope he's not causin' too much trouble," she said, looking at Asher, who grinned at her happily.

"Nah, he's alrigh'. Listen, Danielle, I wanted to ask you a question, but I think it's best I ask you when you're alone," he replied, jerking his head at the kid. Her eyes widened, and she nodded.

"Asher, honey, could you sit inside with Aunt Jamie for a moment, please?" she asked, and the kid let out a whine.

"But, Momma, we're gettin' firewood!" he pouted, and Daryl snorted in amusement.

"Asher, it'll only take a minute, and then you can be with Mr. Dixon again, okay?"

The little boy huffed, but agreed, and Daryl stepped inside the tent to drop him off with Jamie. She smiled at him before turning her attention to her nephew.

Daryl exited the tent and sighed.

"What is it, Daryl? Is something wrong? Did Asher do something?" Danielle asked worriedly.

Daryl thought he might've figured out where the kid got his lightening-fast questions from. "Nothin's wrong, just had a question, and didn't want the kid to hear in case you said no. I was thinkin' I could teach the kid to throw a knife in case he ever needed to defend himself against a geek. After his ankle heals, of course."

Danielle looked shocked, and her face creased in thought. "D'you really think that's necessary? He's only a kid! I don't want him handling weapons, it's not safe."

Daryl met her eyes seriously. "The world's not safe. And he can handle a weapon if he knows that it's not a toy. I've had a knife on me in the woods since I was younger than him. And he'd know it was only for an emergency. You just never know what's gonna happen, if he'd ever get separated from the group, or if, God forbid, he's the last one standin' after a fight. I just want him to be as prepared as he can be."

A heavy weight seems to settle on Danielle's shoulders, and she focused her attention on the tent, as if she could see her son through the material. Then she looked at Daryl, met his eyes.

"God, this sucks," she said candidly, and Daryl laughed in surprise.

"You got that right," he replied.

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "If it was anyone else askin', I'd call them crazy and tell them no way, but… you haven't led me, or any of us, wrong, and I trust you to do right by my boy." Her eyes were large and trusting, and Daryl found that he was uncomfortable with the pressure of being the one she looked to for guidance. "Thank you."

Daryl nodded, and turned to get Asher from the tent. When he saw the boy's happy face, he figured it was worth being uncomfortable to keep the kid safe.

To keep everyone safe.

That night after dinner, Carol sat next to Daryl around the fire. Merle and Ben were on watch, but Daryl's eyes were scanning the trees before he looked to the woman perched next to him. She smiled as he met her steady blue gaze.

"Hey, Daryl," she said quietly, and he nodded at her and bumped her shoulder with his in greeting. He hadn't had much chance to talk to her in a while, but he wasn't worried about her taking it personally. They'd always been close, and she probably knew he'd been distracted.

She grinned at him. "I spoke with Jamie earlier."

Daryl groaned. Fantastic.

Carol's light laughter forced a smile out of Daryl, despite the fact that she was most likely laughing at him. "You've always had somethin' about you, I have to admit. If you and Rick weren't so perfect for each other, I might've gone after you myself."

Daryl snorted. Carol's eyes were bright as she reveled in the fact that she actually got him to lighten up. It wasn't easy to do nowadays.

"How're you holdin' up?" she asked, her expression sobering.

Daryl shrugged, and dug the toe of his boot into the dirt. "Same as always, I guess." He studied the laces of his shoe. "Missin' him. Like fuckin' crazy."

Carol's hand found his arm and squeezed gently. "I know."

Daryl sighed harshly. "I just, I feel like I ain't doin' shit, you know? I should be out there, searchin' for him. But, I'm just sittin' here, and he could be—"

"Hey, don't do that," she said firmly. "If you knew where to look, or, hell, if you even had an inkling where he could be, I know you'd be outta here faster than we could see. In the meantime, Daryl, you're keepin' us _safe_. That's not nothin'. You might not wanna hear it, but you're pretty much the leader of this group. We trust you. And you deserve it."

She waited until he met her eyes before continuing. "You give me the word, and we'll pack up and move on, try to find somewhere else to settle down, and look for Rick while we're doin' it."

Daryl nodded, thankful for her honesty. He didn't deserve her trust, but he was damn glad to have it. "Maybe after the kid heals. I'd be worried about him bein' too vulnerable 'til then. He can't even run."

Carol smiled softly. "And that's what makes you our leader." She patted his arm where her hand still rested on it. "Get some sleep, Dixon. I can tell you're itchin' to get outta here for a few days. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on your brother."

Daryl grinned sheepishly. She always could read him well. Better than anyone except Rick.

"Thanks," he muttered, and she grinned and watched him walk to his tent.

Daryl woke early the next morning, crossbow strapped across his back, and made for the center of camp, where Ben and Janine were preparing breakfast.

"I'm headin' out. Gonna hunt for a few days," he said, and Janine smiled at him warmly.

"Alrigh', Daryl. You be careful, y'hear? No deer is worth your life," she said, and had the grace to turn around to the meat cooking behind her when Daryl's cheeks reddened.

Ben gazed at him curiously. "Hey, Daryl? D'you think you'd be able to show me how to, you know, hunt? I wanna contribute anyway I can, and if anything were to, well," he stammered to a stop, and Daryl held up a hand to assure him he hadn't said anything wrong.

"If somethin' were to happen to Merle and me, you wanna make sure someone else can hunt. Nothin' wrong with that," he finished for him, and Ben nodded at him, jaw set in determination. Daryl looked him over appraisingly, and shrugged. "When I get back, I'll take you and maybe T if he wants, alrigh'? Meantime, maybe Merle can show you how to throw a knife or clean a kill. And don't take nothin' he says personal, he's all hot air. Just ask him. Sound good?"

Ben gave him a grateful smile, and thanked him. Daryl waved him off before heading to the woods.

Three days later, Daryl walked into camp, and wished he'd come back sooner. If he had, he'd never have let Merle leave.

The group practically pounced on him when he got back to give him the news. His brother and Walsh went on a run to Atlanta together, apparently to get supplies. Daryl was dumbfounded; what the hell was Merle thinking, going with Walsh? At best, they'll argue the whole way there and back, and get squat accomplished.

At worst, they'll get each other killed.

"Why the hell are they tryin' a run now?" Daryl asked Lori, who looked as nervous about the men's trip as he felt.

"It was Shane's idea. We're about outta canned goods, and he said we should go to Atlanta, stock up. There're so many stores there," she replied.

"Yeah, and a fuckton of geeks to go along with 'em, probably," Daryl spat. "Why did Merle go with him? And why just the two of them?"

Ben put in his two cents. "Merle figured that if fewer people went in, they could get in and out more quickly, and with less confrontation." He sighed. "And when Shane brought up the idea of Atlanta, he implied that know one would have the balls to go with him. Merle couldn't resist the challenge."

"Fuck," Daryl muttered, pressing two fingers against the bridge of his nose, a habit he'd picked up from Rick. "Dumb bastard."

Hershel patted him on the shoulder, and ignored Daryl's flinch. "He'll be alright, son. They both will. We just have to have faith."

Daryl shook his head.

They'd need a lot more luck than faith.

**Reviews are much appreciated! Thank you for reading!**


	8. Cause I can't take anymore of this

Chapter Eight—Cause I can't take anymore of this, I want to come apart

Rick parked the car about a mile outside the city, hidden off of the interstate. He wasn't sure how long it'd be before they came back for it, but he didn't wanna come back to find it gone, and have to steal another car or trek on foot.

He and Carl alighted from the vehicle and strapped bags across their backs. They figured they could pick up a few things for the group while they were in the city. Medicine and such. Rick had a list from his mom in the front pocket of one of the bags, and he intended to get the stuff after he'd had a good look around.

Rick set off, Carl right behind him, grasping his knife in one hand and his gun in the other. He'd prefer to use his knife in close quarters, because when he and his family had been traversing those towns, searching for somewhere to stay, they'd found that loud noises tended to draw more walkers in. Since then, the Grimes family had tried their best to fight quietly. It didn't always happen, but they tried.

They worked their way quietly through the streets, and had finally started to pass some larger buildings. As they were entering through the west side of the city, Rick could see the Bank of America Plaza on the right, and the Georgia Pacific Tower on the left, bracketing a number of skyscrapers and tall buildings between them. He figured there would be a large number of walkers in that area of the city, seeing as how the population was somewhere close to a half million, and he doubted that the evacuation or the bombing got rid of enough people to keep the number of dead low enough to make a difference.

No, he fully expected to have to fight his way through the city. But he hoped to postpone that for as long as possible, so he and Carl skirted around some of the tallest skyscrapers, and instead headed south of them.

Rick panted as he and his brother crossed a large intersection at a run. They could see walkers ambling around, at least a dozen of them, but they hadn't yet reached the center of the city yet.

They ducked into an alley that was free of walkers, and crouched behind a dumpster. "Where d'you wanna head first?" Carl asked, his voice low.

Rick looked around them, though he couldn't see much besides the dumpster, and clenched his jaw in thought. "Let's go a couple more blocks up, see what we can find. Keep an eye out for anyone living, of course, but I doubt we'll see anyone. Whoever's made it this long's done it by stayin' low."

Carl nodded, and they rose as one to leave the alley, and hugged the outside of the buildings as they ran down the street. Most of the walkers were in the road, and if the boys were quick enough, very few of them caught sight of them fast enough to react.

It was about twenty minutes later, as they were nearing the city center, that they heard the shots. They'd just passed a tank—a fucking _tank_—when the loud cracks rent the air around them. There were walkers everywhere, and they'd been darting in and out of alleys, doorways, and around cars dodging them.

But with the gunfire, dozens more showed up.

"Shit!" Rick hissed. He motioned for Carl to follow him as he neared an alley. They broke into a run, and at least fifty of the fuckers followed. Rick took out the ones directly in front of them, stabbing them in the head with his knife. They fell one after another, but more and more came as his progression slowed.

Carl grabbed his wrist and pulled, encouraging him to run faster. They reached a ladder that went up the side of the building, and Rick climbed up after Carl, praying that the dead couldn't do the same.

They reached the first platform and looked down. None of them could follow. Rick heaved a sigh of relief that was stopped short as he heard another gunshot.

Who the fuck was shooting in the middle of fucking Atlanta?

Carl waved him over to the next ladder. "C'mon, Rick! Stop fuckin' gawkin' and climb! We gotta stop whoever's shootin' that gun; asshole's gonna bring every walker for miles here!" he hissed. Rick followed him to the roof, and scanned it for the source of the noise. He didn't see anyone, so he looked for a way into the building. Maybe it was coming from a different roof.

Their eyes scanned the ground, where they found a trapdoor, with a ladder leading down into the building.

They climbed down, and let their eyes adjust in the dark room. It seemed to be some kind of storeroom. Rick signaled for Carl to stay silent as he led the way out of the room.

They walked through halls, and down to the ground level. Sounds of gunshots still reached their ears, and Rick thought it was coming from the east, and couldn't be more than two building away from where they were.

They saw a door to the outside, and decided to risk the chance of walkers in order to get to the next building over. As they stepped outside, three walkers in the alley that separated the buildings caught sight of them and moved towards them.

Rick took out two of them with his knife while Carl took out the other, and then they darted into the building and hurried through the rooms. They reached the level that was even with the street, and Rick's heart pounded faster at the sight of dozens of walkers pressing in on the doors. The fucking _glass_ doors.

"There're stairs, Rick. Maybe it's coming from up there," Carl said. After the words left his mouth, another shot rang out. They ran for the stairs and climbed them quickly, Rick in front.

As they came closer to the roof, Rick could hear someone yelling, or screaming, and he quickened his pace. He couldn't tell what the person was saying, but he could tell it was male.

At last, they reached the door to the roof, and Carl almost barreled through it before Rick held out an arm to stop him.

"He's got a gun. Let's be cautious," he whispered, and Carl nodded. Rick pulled his gun from its holster, and slowly opened the door. He peered around the edge of it, and could finally hear what the man was yelling.

"Aw, c'mon, Dixon, don't hide! What d'ya think I'm gonna do, shoot ya in cold blood?"

Rick's blood ran cold at the name, _Dixon_, and he felt Carl grab his arm. He held Rick back physically, who realized that he had taken a step onto the roof. He would've exposed himself to the asshole with the gun.

He turned slightly to nod at Carl, to let him know he had a hold of himself, before focusing on the scene in front of him again.

"I dunno," another voice drawled. Rick couldn't see where he was. "The fact tha' yer shootin' at me mighta made think ye had it in mind."

The other man laughed as he stalked along the roof, obviously looking for the other one, _Dixon_. Rick's ears were ringing, and he couldn't tell if the other voice was Daryl or Merle, so he shook his head slightly to clear them.

"Y'knew this was comin', man, dunno why yer actin' like this's a surprise. That's why ya came, right? Ta get rid o' me?"

Dixon snorted, and the first man's head darted to the place where the noise came from. It sounded like Dixon was crossing the roof quietly, trying to get around to the other man and gain the upper hand.

A gunshot came from where Dixon was hiding, and then Rick saw him, _Merle_, jump out from behind a ledge and continue shooting at the other man. Rick stepped out again, and this time Carl was so shocked at the sight of Merle that he didn't try to stop him; he stepped right out with him, his jaw open.

When Rick rounded the door, trying to reach another ledge for cover from the men shooting, he finally saw who the other man was.

Fuck. _Mr. Walsh_? What the hell?

"Merle!" he shouted, and the shooting stopped, both men casting their gazes around, trying to find the owner of the new voice.

"Who's 'at?" Merle yelled suspiciously.

"It's Rick! Merle, what the fuck is goin' on?" Rick kept his head low, and his voice loud. The longer he could stop the fighting, the better.

"Jesus Christ, Rick, it's good ta hear yer voice! We weren't sure if you was even alive, boy!" Merle shouted back, and Rick could barely discern Walsh's muttered, "Rick _Grimes_?"

"I got Carl here with me, too, Merle. An' my family's alright. Where the hell is Daryl? Is he…?" Rick's voice broke at his lover's name, he was so anxious to hear news about him.

Walsh cut Merle off before he could answer. "This's touchin' and all, but Rick, me and Merle here have some business to settle. See, he made a fool o' me a couple days back, and I plan to make it right. Scum like him, dirty, druggie hicks, shouldn't be leadin' anyone at a time like this, and I'm sick o' bein' treated like a fuckin' backup. No one'll miss him after a while." A slow grim spread on his face. "I'll make sure of it."

Merle let out a roar of rage, and charged out from behind the ledge where he'd been ducking, and ran at the man. Walsh raised his weapon and fired off a shot, but before he could get off another, there was a perfect, .22 caliber bullet-sized hole in his forehead, and he went down.

Merle stopped, and turned wide eyes at Rick, who was still standing with his arm extended, gun pointed at the space where Walsh had been standing only a few seconds prior.

He'd never killed a living person before.

A wave of nausea at what he'd just had to do hit him. Rick dropped his arm, but kept ahold of his gun as he ran to the ledge of the roof, and vomited over the side.

He'd just shot someone. A living, breathing human being. It'd been to save Merle, so Rick knew he'd do it again in a heartbeat, but that didn't take away the weight of the action.

Thoughts flitted through his mind as he spit acid and bile from his mouth. He thought of what he could've done differently, things he could've said to get Walsh to back down, or whether his presence is what caused the final showdown to start.

"Fuck", he whispered, and he tensed as he felt a hand on his back.

"It wasn't your fault, brother. He was gonna kill Merle," Carl said, and Rick nodded. He knew that.

Rick pushed himself up from where he'd been leaning over the ledge, and turned to see Merle squatting next to the body, his face blank. He looked up at Rick, and gave a half-hearted smirk. "Yer a good shot, Sheriff Grimes."

Rick didn't answer, just walked steadily over to the body that used to be his Biology teacher. He remembered how he'd despised the man, and his interference in his relationship with Daryl.

He'd never wanted him dead, though. Even after all of the terrible things he'd said about the love of Rick's life, the man hadn't deserved to die like this. Shot in the head, and left to rot on a roof.

Rick walked to the other side of the roof, towards the exit that he and Carl had come through earlier. He heard footsteps behind him, and knew the other men were following him. When he reached the door, he turned and found two set of eyes staring at him, one hard, the other concerned.

Rick patted Carl on the shoulder to let him know he didn't need to worry about him, then looked at Merle, whose blank face was still unreadable to most people.

Rick, though, had spent the last decade of his life with the man's brother, and if anyone could read a Dixon, it was him.

"To save you, I'd do it again. Don't beat yourself up, man," Rick said quietly, and Merle looked away quickly, a grimace on his face.

He turned back to Rick and gave him a smirk, but there was no fire behind it. "Dunno whatcha talkin' 'bout, Grimes. I'm glad the prick's dead."

Rick nodded, and moved closer to the man. "I'm so fuckin' happy to see ya, Merle." And he pulled the man into a hug. He didn't remember ever hugging the man before. Neither Dixon was the touchy type.

Merle stood still for a moment before returning the embrace, patting Rick on the back before letting go and stepping back. "Betcha dyin', wantin' to know about Darlena."

Rick nodded, though now he knew Daryl was okay. Merle wouldn't talk about him like that if he weren't.

"We got a camp a couple miles out, some o' the teachers an' some others. Daryl's with 'em. He's fine, Rick, jus' worried sick 'bout you," Merle said, and he offered Rick the first genuine smile since they'd found each other.

"Thank God," Rick said, and hunched forward to rest his hands on his knees, which felt weak with relief. Carl reached forward and patted his back, laughing a bit.

"C'mon, I'll take ya to 'im," Merle continued, and then his brow creased. "We gotta get outta this shithole first, though."

The three men walked to the ledge, and looked down as one to see hoards of walkers gathered around the building. "Well, shit," Carl muttered, and the other two grunted in agreement.

"So, you got any good ideas, Sheriff Grimes?" Merle drawled, and Rick scoffed before focusing on the task at hand.

"What d'we know about these things?" he asked.

"They're attracted to noise, smell, anything that moves," Carl listed off, and Rick nodded.

A contemplative look crossed Merle's face, and Rick watched him curiously. He was reminded of the look Daryl got when he was planning something.

"Maybe camouflage would work. Like when yer huntin'," Merle said. Rick and Carl looked at each other, to see if they were the only ones not following.

They weren't.

Merle huffed a laugh. "Dunno how ya can be so clueless 'bout huntin', Rick. Ya've lived with my brother for the last ten years."

Rick shrugged sheepishly, and indicated for Merle to continue.

"Maybe we can use them ta… make ourselves smell like 'em."

A myriad of emotions passed over Rick's face at that. Confusion. Comprehension. Disgust.

And then came the nausea again.

"That's fuckin' gross, man," Carl said, and Merle laughed at both of them.

"We're in a fuckin' clothing store. Grab a coupla coats, kill some geeks, and smear their guts on it. Guaranteed we'll make it through the pack down there without a scratch," Merle said smugly, and Rick, grimacing, nodded.

Fuck, how he dreaded this.

"It's the only plan we got," Rick said, and Carl, looking sick, just shrugged.

The next hour was full of things that Rick wouldn't wish his worst enemy to have to witness. Night had fallen by the time they'd made it to a construction sight to steal a truck. And then they were on their way out of the city, ready to forget what had just happened.

Merle was still laughing his ass of at the other two, between giving them directions, but Rick found that he didn't mind.

If he was taking him to Daryl, he could laugh at him all he wanted.

Daryl hadn't felt this uneasy since he'd stopped taking Xanax. Even though he hadn't taken a pill in over six years, he found himself wanting one now.

His brother was gonna get himself killed.

Daryl walked the perimeter of the quarry, checking the traps and keeping an ear out for anything approaching—human or geek.

Asher had begged to come with him, and for the first time, the man had been able to resist the kid. He needed full mobility if something came to the camp, what with Merle and Walsh gone. Walsh was a douche bag but he was also reasonably built and another pair of hands and a gun in a fight.

Daryl paced the woods for the next few hours. The others in the camp were cooking, and chatting, and cleaning up. Ben was up on the bus, keeping an eye out for anything, but visibility was shit at dusk, and Daryl knew he was more likely to spot danger from down on the ground.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Daryl heard a sound to his left. His head snapped towards it, and he narrowed his eyes at the subtle movement he saw there. It was hard to see, since it was so dark under the trees with night approaching, but he could swear he saw the bushes move.

He took a cautious step towards said bushes, his crossbow hoisted up on his shoulder, arrow ready to fire.

And then he jumped back when at least half a dozen geeks were coming at him.

"Geeks!" he yelled, and ran for camp after firing off a shot at one of the fuckers. It fell to the ground, an arrow in its forehead, but Daryl didn't bother with retrieving it.

He had to warn the others.

There was chaos in the camp as Daryl burst through the trees to find that other geeks had just made it to the quarry from other directions. Everyone seemed to spot them at the same time, and people started running, not even bothering to pick up weapons and fight the things off, they were so lost in their panic.

Screams echoed throughout the camp, and Daryl shouldered his crossbow to use his shotgun, which was a faster weapon. He fired shots at the things, aiming for headshots and hitting them more often than not. He heard other tussles throughout the camp, and saw Ben trying to fight one off of someone, who was on the ground, wailing in pain.

Daryl couldn't see who it was, but that person was a goner.

Danielle had Asher in her arms and was running for the bus, but two walkers blocked her path, growling and grabbing for her. She moved back, and held the crying kid more tightly as the things closed in. Daryl shot both of them in the head, and grabbed Danielle's arm tightly.

"C'mon," he shouted over the noise, and her feet started moving. He got her to the bus and shoved her and the kid on, then closed the door and turned back to the fight.

Daryl moved to T-Dog, who had three geeks on him at once, and took one of them out. T-Dog dealt with the other two with a knife under each of their chins, then shot Daryl a grateful nod as they moved on to the next group of them.

Sophia and Carol were cornered behind the bus, unable to reach the door, and the two men moved towards them quickly, ready to dispatch them. Daryl took one out with a shot, and the other with his knife, which had been holstered on his hip.

"Go!" he shouted at the women, and they darted around the bus and to the door, which swung open for them, then closed quickly.

More and more walkers came, and Daryl was getting tired. They'd never make it out alive.

They had to get the hell out of here.

T-Dog seemed to reach the same conclusion, because he started yelling. "To the bus! Forget your stuff, we gotta get out! Get on the bus!"

Daryl watched as some people made a run for it, but others were still fighting, trapped in combat with geeks. He and T-Dog split up to help them. Jamie and Janine passed him, and he was relieved that the women were all on board. Except for Lori, his mind supplied.

His eyes scanned the grounds, and landed on the body that was currently being feasted on. He winced. He swung his eyes back out to see who else was out there.

Hershel and Ben were the only ones left, and Daryl moved to help Hershel fight off one that had pinned him against a tree, its jaw snapping only inches away from the man's neck. He had no idea how the old man had fought it off so long.

He must have bigger cojones than he'd thought.

Daryl jammed his knife into the skull of the geek, and it stopped moving and fell to the ground. Hershel looked at him in surprise, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, son."

Daryl nodded brusquely, then turned to see T-Dog's progress. He'd dealt with the geeks on Ben, and the men were running to the bus. More geeks were closing in on Daryl and Hershel, so he grabbed the man's arm and pulled him.

"We gotta go," he shouted, and the old man picked up the pace. Daryl took down several more walkers, but at last, they reached the bus, and jumped on board when the doors opened. Ben quickly closed it behind them, and moved into the driver's seat.

Daryl was met with several wide-eyed stares and petrified expressions.

Jamie darted tear-filled eyes around the bus, and finally stopped on Daryl. "Lori?" she asked tremulously.

Daryl winced, and shook his head. He turned towards the driver's seat. "Let's go," he barked at Ben, who started the bus and pressed the gas. The bus jerked into motion, and Daryl took a seat and rested his head back against the headrest.

"Fuck," he muttered, rubbing his face wearily. They were completely and utterly screwed. Not only did they leave everything they owned behind, but Merle and Walsh hadn't made it back to camp yet.

Daryl had just fucking left his brother. Just like he'd left Rick.

A wave of nausea swept through him, and he closed his eyes, breathing shallowly until it passed. He'd have to make it right. Maybe they could drive to Atlanta, see if they could find his brother and the douchebag that was with him.

Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't gonna happen. The others were too scared, too shaken up, to go closer to Atlanta.

Carol stood up from her seat next to Sophia and moved to Daryl's side. She sat with enough space between them that they didn't touch, and gazed at him steadily until he finally lifted his head to look at her.

"You alright?" she asked quietly, and Daryl nodded.

"Not bit," he muttered. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"What're we gonna do?" she asked, and he looked at her sharply.

"How the fuck should I know?" he replied harshly, his volume rising. She didn't flinch, too used to his temper to be affected.

"We trust you, Daryl. Now, where do you think we should go?"

For the first time, Daryl felt annoyance when looking at his friend. He scoffed and stood up abruptly. "Maybe you shouldn't. Look what trustin' me got Lori."

He heard some of the women gasp, and at least one was sobbing. Daryl turned and walked to the very back of the bus, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact.

He was done letting them think he was leader material.

Rick, Carl, and Merle made it to the quarry about an hour after getting the truck. The walkers, and backed-up cars, made it difficult to traverse the city, and then the turn-off to the campsite was hard to see at night.

When at last he pulled into the small area, his heart stopped at the scene. He was about to get out of the car, but two hands stopped him, both of them from different people.

"Fuck," Merle groaned.

"Don't be stupid, Rick. We get out, we die," Carl said, his eyes on the dozens of geeks surrounding them. The things were pressing in on the car now, trying to get at them.

Rick felt a stabbing pain in his chest, and a sob was wrenched from him. He couldn't hold in the tears at this point, not after coming so close to Daryl. If they'd only made it back a little earlier…

Was he even still alive? He couldn't leave until he knew for sure.

Rick put the car in gear, and crept forward, through the press of bodies. He grabbed the flashlight from the dash, and Carl grabbed the other.

They spent the next hour looking at every face, every body, every _thing_ that was out there.

None of them was Daryl.

Rick felt a small hint of relief, though he knew it didn't necessarily mean that his lover was all right. He could've been bitten, and the group took him with them. He could've turned already, out here in the quarry, and then wandered off into the woods.

He could've been eaten, just a skeleton now.

Barely holding down the granola bar that he forced himself to eat on the way here, Rick decided to head back to his parents to regroup. They hadn't gotten any of the supplies, so he knew his mom would be disappointed. She would be even more disappointed, though, to see that they hadn't found Daryl.

They could never feel as Rick did, though, sickened with grief and the loss of hope. It was slowly dwindling, little by little, with each day that passed.

Rick pulled out of the quarry, tears streaming silently down his face, his blurry eyes fixed on the road.

**I'm sorry to anyone who was thinking that a reunion was happening in this chap. To be honest, I tried to bow down to pressure and write it that way, but the story just didn't feel right. I've had the whole story mapped out since before I started writing it, and I really want to finish it the way it was planned. Again, I'm sorry, but I hope the next few chapters will make up for it.**

**I will promise two things: they won't be reuniting in the last chap (or even the second-to-last) as I've had a couple of reviewers ask. And second, there will be a reunion, and I'm not one of those authors who brings them back together, just to kill one of them off. I'm just as much of a sucker for a HEA as the next person, and I want my boys to be happy. **

**If I follow my outline, there are seven chapters left. I want to thank everyone who reads this story, and to everyone who reviews. You have no idea how much your feedback, or just your kind words, mean to me.**

**If you have a moment, please let me know what you thought :)**


	9. And who am I supposed to be?

Chapter Nine—And who am I supposed to be? Everybody seems to see except for me

Rick parked behind the town hall, and turned off the car. He leaned his head against the steering wheel for just a moment, letting the exhaustion and despair fully encompass him before putting it all into a corner of his mind, and focusing on what was in front of him.

The group still needed him, even if all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the next year. He just wanted Daryl back. If he had him, he could do anything.

Rick shook his head. He needed to get it together. If he had any chance of seeing Daryl again, he had to stay strong, keep searching. The last thing Daryl needed was this weak man, crying himself to sleep, whining about how unfair it all was.

Daryl hadn't fallen in love with a weak man.

Gathering as much strength in his exhausted body as he could, Rick opened his door and stepped out. Carl and Merle had already exited, and were waiting by the trunk, probably giving him a minute to collect himself. He gave them a wry grin.

"I'm good. Done feelin' sorry for myself. Let's go," he said shortly, and he received two nods before they followed him to the building.

"Dunno whatcha so upset about anyway, Rick," Merle said. "'sides me, Daryl's the toughest sumbitch in the state. Nothin's gonna get him, or stop him from seein' ya again."

Rick turned to give Merle a grateful nod before knocking on the backdoor of the building.

"Yeah?" he heard a voice yell.

"John?" he asked. It was just a hunch, really. It was usually either him or Glenn standing guard back here, and it didn't sound like Glenn.

"Rick?" The door opened, and he saw John's relieved face on the other side of it. He waved them in. "Damn good to see you two." He gave Merle a quizzical stare. "Who's this?"

Rick turned back to pat John on the shoulder. "Friend of ours. Merle Dixon, this is John Cash. He's a mechanic, too. He helped a couple friends of ours get outta town when their car broke down. Glenn and Maggie, they were a few years behind you, you remember them?"

Merle shrugged, but held out his hand to shake John's. "Cash, huh? Should I even bother makin' a joke?"

John smirked. "Pretty sure I heard 'em all. You a mechanic, then?"

Merle let go of John's hand, and they closed the door together. "Yeah, me and my brother own a shop in our town, called Dixon's."

John's eyes widened. "Dixon's Motorcycle Repair? Hell, yeah, I've heard of it. I applied there a couple months back, never heard anything, though."

Merle laughed at that. "It's my brother that handles that shit, I ain't hired nobody but myself."

John shook his head in amusement. "Small world, huh?"

Rick cut them off. "I'll catch you later, John, gotta see my parents."

John nodded. "Yeah, sure. See you."

Rick led Carl and Merle through the hallways until they reached the main room, where the beds and dining areas were kept. The medical station was to the direct right when you walked in, so Rick caught sight of his mother first. She looked up from where she was taking the teenager, Aiden's, temperature and smiled brightly, relief evident on her face.

"Thank God!" she said, pulling the thermometer out distractedly. Her eyes scanned behind him, and brightened when she caught sight of Merle. "He found you! Oh, that's wonderful, I'm so glad you're alright." Her face fell when she noticed Daryl wasn't with them.

Her eyes moved back to Rick, her eyes sad and curious. "Honey…"

Rick leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, and nodded to Aiden, who was watching them. "We don't know, Mom. We found Merle in Atlanta, he was on a run, but when we got back to where he and Daryl had set up camp, it was overrun." He forcibly held in the tears that wanted to come, but his mom saw his struggle and stroked his cheek softly.

"I'm sure he's okay, honey. You know Daryl, nothin' can get 'im." Merle snorted, and she looked to him, confused. "What?"

"'s just what I said," he answered wryly.

She gave him an amused look. "Well, great minds think alike."

Merle chuckled, and came forward to lift Beth off her feet in greeting. "Glad ta see ya, Beth. Was worried 'boutcha."

She patted him on the back and gave him a kiss on the cheek when he set her down. "Same here."

"You're back five seconds, and you're already puttin' the moves on my wife? What am I gonna do with you, Dixon?" Jimmy said from behind them, a smirk on his face.

Merle laughed, and put an arm around Beth's shoulders. "Guess you'll have to get ready fer the competition, Grimes."

Jimmy shook his head, amused. He looked at Rick, and his expression sobered. "I heard what you said about Daryl, son. I'm sorry. But we'll find him. If anyone can find him, it's you and Merle."

Rick gave his dad a reluctant smile, and nodded. He knew, rationally, that there was still a chance, but it was hard to keep that hope alive in his heart. He ached for Daryl. It was visceral, and painful.

Jimmy clapped Rick on the shoulder, and looked to Carl, who had stayed silent during the exchange. "You okay?"

Carl nodded. "Yeah, Dad. Fine." He met Beth's eyes. "We didn't get your supplies, Mom. I'm sorry. We were gonna get 'em after we looked around, but we found Merle, then went back to his campsite. We didn't get a chance."

Beth shrugged, despite her worried expression. "It's okay, sweetheart, we'll manage."

"I'll go on another run, Mom. Somewhere closer. One of these small towns has to have some of the stuff you need, at least," Carl said firmly, and Beth smiled gratefully at him. Her expression was tempered with worry, though.

"I don't want you goin' alone. Rick, Merle, could either one of you…?"

Merle squeezed her shoulders with the arm that was still wrapped around them. "Sure thing, Beth. I'll keep an eye on the kid."

Carl rolled his eyes. His gaze settled on Aiden, who was watching him intently. He blushed slightly, before turning away and walking to the dining area. "Just gonna grab a bite first."

Rick's brow furrowed at the red on Carl's face. Was he embarrassed about something?

His eyes moved to Aiden, the orphaned teenage girl. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her. At the moment, her eyes were fixed on the hands in her lap, determinedly not looking up at any of them. He couldn't actually remember ever hearing her speak.

"You alright?" he asked, and she took a moment before she looked up, apparently not expecting him to speak to her. Merle, Jimmy, and Beth had continued a conversation, so Rick stepped forward, worry creasing his brow.

Her wide brown eyes met his, and he was reminded of a skittish doe. The last deer he'd seen, though, he'd killed for food, so he shook his head to clear it of the reminder.

"Mom was takin' your temperature. You feelin' sick?"

The girl shook her head nervously, her eyes wide. "Just a precaution. She checked everyone," she whispered, and Rick had to lean in slightly to hear her.

"Ok, good," he answered, and smiled gently at her. She gave a tentative smile back, practically invisible on her pale face.

Something about her vulnerability touched Rick's heart, though he knew it wasn't advisable to make friends in a time like this. You never knew who was going to die next.

Still, this girl was alone in the world. He needed to stop thinking about what was best for him, and think of other people. They were all he had until he found Daryl.

"We're headin' out," Carl said as he passed, Merle walking beside him. Rick tossed him the keys when Carl held his hand out for them.

"Stay safe, sweetheart," Beth called.

"Don' worry sugar, I will," Merle replied, a lascivious grin on his face. Jimmy shook his head in amusement before draping an arm across his wife's shoulders and pulling her into his side. Merle made a sour face, and left the room with Carl.

He felt like he should go with them, but he figured as soon as they came back, he'd go on another search for Daryl.

He might as well rest while he could.

Rick turned to go lie down on a cot, when his mom reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I have to tell you two somethin'. When I was checkin' Maggie over for any illnesses, she mentioned that she's… well, expecting. They found out right before they had to evacuate. She's about twelve weeks along."

She was met with two sets of raised eyebrows. Jimmy cleared his throat. "Alright, well… do you have everythin' you need for her?"

Beth nodded. "I added it to the list before Carl left. She just needs some prenatal vitamins right now, but I'll keep an eye on her. She'll give birth in six months barring any complications, so we need to think about gathering supplies over time. The tools we'll need for the birth, as well as bottles, formula, possibly a crib. Of course, that's assuming we have somewhere to settle down." She looked around her. "I don't see us stayin' in this place that long. It's not secure enough."

Rick nodded. "You're right, Mom. I'll talk to Carl later, maybe we can pick up a few things every time we go out in search of Daryl. Just give me a list of everything we need, in the order that we'll need it, so I'll know what needs to come first. Ok?"

Beth kissed his cheeks and grasped his hand, stroking her thumb across his palm soothingly. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll get it to you tomorrow."

Rick kissed her forehead and nodded to his dad before making his way to the cots.

This day just kept getting more complicated.

Rick was woken up later that day to screaming. He shook his head to clear it and jumped off of the cot he was sleeping on.

Around him was chaos.

People were running for the exits, and pulling others with them. Jimmy was in the middle, trying to call everyone to order. When someone shoved past Rick and almost knocked him off of his feet, he decided to do something about it.

He climbed onto the dining table and let out a shrill whistle. Everyone froze around him and stared, silent.

"What's goin' on?" he said loudly.

"There's walkers everywhere!" Amy yelled as she gave a nervous glance to the windows. Now that everyone was quiet, Rick could hear the scraping of the dead, trying to tear through the walls, the windows, the doors. It sounded like dozens of them.

"And y'all thought that screamin' and runnin' outside was the best way to deal with tha'?" a voice said from the entrance. It was Merle.

"I don't see anyone comin' up with any ideas. It's everyone for themselves," Amy's boyfriend Tommy said, while grasping the blonde's hand tightly.

Rick held up a hand to stave off any retorts. "The only way we're gonna get outta this is by workin' together."

Jimmy stepped onto the table with him, and gave Rick a pat on the shoulder. "Rick is right. Merle, where's Carl?"

Merle shrugged. "He's drivin', tryin' to get some of the fuckers to follow 'im, give us a fightin' chance. I came in to getcha out."

Jimmy nodded. "Alright. Well, we got more cars, right Glenn?"

Glenn was standing near the back exit, holding Maggie's hand. "Yeah, we still have my car."

"Ok, well there's twelve of us. We got any other vehicles?" Rick said.

"Andrea's car," Amy said, her voice sad.

Rick gave her a sympathetic look, and nodded. "Ok, so four to a car. They all in the back?"

Glenn and Andrea both nodded. Merle spoke up. "Tol' the kid to meet us back there in ten. That was five minutes ago."

Jimmy clapped his hands together, thinking. "Everyone who can handle a gun, a knife, anything, get armed. Everyone who can't, grab as much stuff as you can carry at a run. Don't slow yourself down just for clothing, either. We don't know how long it'll be before we can find more food or medicine. Ya'll have three minutes."

Everyone scrambled to get ready. Glenn pulled away from Maggie and picked up his rifle while she loaded a bag full of supplies. Beth and Aiden packed bags full of medical supplies. John, Tommy, and Dale all grabbed their guns and each slung a bag over their back, full of ammo and their possessions. Amy packed two bags full of food from the kitchen area, and ran back to the main room, her arms loaded down. She plastered herself to Tommy's side.

He met her eyes seriously. "I'll keep you safe."

She nodded and kissed him once before falling behind him.

Jimmy led the group to the back exit, and Rick brought up the rear. Those who were armed made a circle around the people who weren't. They were going to move as a unit.

Jimmy put his hand on the back door, which was moving under the force of the walkers on the other side of it, trying to get in. He turned back one last time and looked at his wife, whose hand was grasped tightly with Aiden's. Beth met his gaze and gave him as much of a smile as she could manage.

She knew he could get them out of this.

"Everyone ready. Count of three," Jimmy said, just loud enough that Rick could hear in the back. "One… two…" Rick took a deep breath. "Three!"

Jimmy shoved open the door as hard as he could. The walkers directly behind it were pushed back, far enough that Jimmy could shoot them before they came at the group. They moved as a formation, and every person tried their best not to break it. Guns went off, and walkers fell to the ground, but there seemed to be three more in their place when they did. They got to Andrea's car first, and Amy, Tommy, Dale, and Aiden got in.

As the group got smaller, the circle closed up, so no one was left vulnerable.

Carl had parked directly beside Glenn's car, obviously anticipating the fact that they would need a fast getaway. Beth jumped in the Grimes's car while Jimmy and Rick held off the walkers, giving Merle, Glenn, Maggie, and John time to climb in the other car.

At last, Jimmy and Rick got in the backseat, and Carl pulled out behind Glenn, who was already following Amy.

Trying to catch their breath, Rick and Jimmy had their heads leaning back against the seats. They met each other's eyes, and they couldn't help it.

They laughed.

Call it an adrenaline rush, call it the result of a near death experience. But they had just led a half-armed group through a mass of hungry walkers, and no one got bit or died.

That was something.

Jimmy's laughter died off slowly, and he wiped the tears out of his eyes. Rick stopped chuckling as well, and he closed his eyes, exhausted.

"Pull over, son. Honk at them to let them know," Jimmy told Carl, and he did. The cars ahead of them applied their brakes, and they pulled over in front of the Grimes's car.

Jimmy alighted from the car, and everyone else followed suit. Rick and John stayed a ways back to keep an eye on anything approaching while everyone else conferred.

Rick honestly couldn't give a damn where they went, as long as he could start looking for Daryl again soon. Though, in the back of his mind, he acknowledged that it was important to find somewhere that Maggie could have her baby. Somewhere safe.

Rick could hear Jimmy speaking calmly, but he couldn't make out the words.

He did hear, however, when Merle popped up to offer a suggestion. "There's a prison a coupla miles south o' here. Should be deserted. Think about it. Humans and geeks both have a hard time gettin' through those walls."

"A prison?" Amy asked nervously. "How d'you know we can even get in?"

Carl stepped forward. "'Cause we saw it on our run, and we checked it out. I was gonna mention it to you tonight, Dad, but when we got back…"

"We were already overrun," Beth finished. She looked to her husband. "I think it's worth a shot." 'For Maggie' was left unspoken, but Jimmy could read between the lines.

"Wait a minute, we don't know if there're any people in there. What if some of the criminals are controlling it? We'd be walking into a trap," Dale said, ever the voice of reason.

Jimmy shrugged. "We don't have any other ideas, and we can't stay out here tonight. It's too dangerous." He sighed. "Carl will lead the way. Everyone, fall behind."

Amy and Glenn both nodded their understanding, and everyone returned to the cars. Carl started up the Grimes's car again, and pulled onto the road first. Glenn pulled out behind him, followed by Amy.

They were at the prison in less than ten minutes. Rick fought to keep his eyes open. He knew they would need his help. Not only would they have to fight off an unknown number of walkers, but they'd have to do it in the dark.

After parking, the Grimes family took stock of their surroundings. There were walkers ambling all around the prison, and there were more inside the tall gate that surrounded the building. To get in, they'd have to fight their ways through dozens of the undead.

And it was practically black outside.

Glenn pulled up beside their car. Maggie, who was in the front seat, rolled down her window just enough to be able speak. Carl rolled down his as well.

"We gonna do this tonight?" she asked, her expression worried. Carl shrugged, and waited for his dad to speak. Jimmy rolled down his window to answer her.

"Think it's best we sleep in the cars tonight. Y'all got a flashlight?"

"Yeah," she replied.

"Use it if you need anything. We'll start at dawn." Jimmy waited for their nods of understanding before rolling his window back up. When Amy pulled up on their car's other side, Beth rolled down her window and told them the same.

Then they settled in for the night.

While Rick, Carl, and Beth took turns sleeping, Jimmy had devised a plan. He needed some materials to execute it, but he figured if it worked, they very well might have a permanent place to settle down.

And that was a rare thing in today's world.

When the sun rose, he woke everyone in the cars with his flashlight, and they communicated through their windows. A few of the walkers had seen them, and were ambling around the cars, but none had been overly aggressive.

Jimmy sent Merle and the people with him—Glenn, Maggie, and John—to get the supplies he needed. Merle said he'd spotted a sporting goods store on their run, and promised to be back within the hour.

While they were gone, Jimmy detailed his plan to everyone else, explaining their formations, and the places they'd hit first. He explained what those inexperienced with hand-to-hand combat or guns would be doing, and he settled the nerves of those who felt uneasy with their role in it—namely, Amy and Aiden. They felt as though they would be more of a hindrance than a help.

"Trust me," Jimmy said loud enough for them to hear him. "Y'all will help a lot. Just yell as loud as you can, and stab them when they get close enough. Merle and them'll bring somethin' you can use."

The girls nodded, and Rick put his head in his hands to stop himself form laughing humorlessly at the situation. If someone had told him on the night of his and Daryl's anniversary dinner that soon enough, his dad would be explaining to girls that they would need to stab zombies in the head, or else they wouldn't stop trying to eat you, he would have had that person committed.

Now he felt as though he should be the one committed.

Merle returned with the things they needed, and the next hour was a blur of shouts, directions, and screams. Thankfully, this time the screams weren't of fright. After they cleared out the first section and could close it off with some of the hooks that Merle had procured, Beth, Aiden, Amy, and Maggie had stayed there, and were yelling their heads off to attract the walkers.

And when the things got close enough, they stabbed them. It was disturbing how you could get used to it after a while.

Meanwhile, the men were fighting their way through the walkers, and were blocking them off when they could.

When the hour passed, Rick found himself inside of Cell Block C, walking past empty cells full of beds, sheets, and uncomfortable mattresses.

They'd found a place to call home.

Daryl sat in the back of the bus, arms crossed, as he stewed over what to do. No matter what the group did, he'd have to leave. He not only had to find Rick, now he also had to track down his brother.

Unfortunately, his truck and Merle's bike were still in the quarry. He didn't have a way to travel right now, unless he planned on tracking the men on foot.

Sighing, Daryl tipped his head down, both to avoid eye contact with the women up front that were staring holes into the side of his face, like they expected him to stand up and solve all of their problems, and to try to catch some shut-eye.

He felt someone sit next to him, and guessed it was Carol. She was the only one brave enough to approach him when he was like this. He debated whether to acknowledge her or not, but figured she wouldn't go away until he did.

Daryl huffed impatiently before raising his head, glare already in place. She didn't even flinch, just gazed at him sympathetically.

"I'm sorry about before," she said, and Daryl raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn't expected that. "I shouldn't have put that on you. You never asked to be leader, and I know you don't wanna be."

Daryl nodded tersely. She was right about that, at least.

"I also got the impression that you're figurin' out how to ditch us, to find Merle and Rick," she continued, and Daryl glanced at her quickly before looking at his hands.

"Wha' makes ya think that?" he muttered. She scoffed.

"C'mon, Daryl. I've known you for over a decade. I can tell when you're itchin' to get the hell out," she said lightly, and he almost cracked a smile at that.

He raised his eyes and met hers, face serious. "I need to find 'em."

She nodded with understanding and compassion on her face. "I know. But I have to ask you a favor. I'll understand if you say no, but I feel like it's my job as your friend to look out for your well-being, at least as much as I can, and so it has to be said." She took a deep breath. "Will you stay with us just a while longer?"

Daryl opened his mouth to reply, but she held up a hand to stop him. "Let me finish, please." She gave him a small smile. "If we can just get settled somewhere, maybe we can find a car, or somethin' for you to travel in. If you waited, maybe someone could go with you, to watch your back. We can stock up on food a bit, so you'll have some to take with you. It'd give you time to make more arrows," she said wryly.

Daryl started to shake his head, but the look on her face made him pause. "And?"

"And… you'd be helpin' us out. If you're with us, we'd feel safer. You're the best fighter, hands down, and you can hear a walker comin' before any of us. And, to be honest? You're our one constant source of food. Maybe if you could stay long enough to teach some of us to hunt, at least then we could fend for ourselves." She watched him for a moment, before finishing. "What d'you think?"

Daryl snorted. "I think you just made yer group sound like a buncha useless pansies," he said derisively. He dropped his gaze back to his hands on his lap, thinking. She did have a point, about finding a vehicle and at least having some time to make some new arrows. He was running low.

And, in the back of his mind, he knew that if he left them unprotected and unable to fend for themselves when he could've done something to help them, and Carol or the kid got killed… he'd never forgive himself.

He met Carol's eye. "I can't make any promises about how long I'll stick around. But you have me for at least a week."

Carol smiled at him gratefully and patted his knee before thanking him, and walking back to the front of the bus.

Daryl lowered his head again to rest. He was gonna need it.

The bus came to a screeching stop, and Ben cursed loudly. "We're outta gas."

Shit. Daryl stood up from the back and met the panicked eyes of the group around him. T-Dog and Hershel stood as well, and the three quickly scanned the highway outside for any geeks. When they saw the coast was clear, they got off the bus.

The other followed after them, including Ben, who looked as if he was sleeping standing up. Daryl didn't know how he managed not to hit anything while he was driving.

"Maybe we should form a couple of groups, go in each direction, then meet back here," T suggested. Hershel was shaking his head before the man finished speaking.

"We're too weak right now. We don't have Merle or Shane, and we left a lot of our weapons back at camp. We only have enough to secure one group, at best."

T sighed. "Well, it's what? About seven in the morning? So we got about twelve hours to find something before it starts gettin' dark. Which way we wanna go?"

Danielle, who held Asher's hand, looked at him in surprise when the little boy broke free of his mom's grasp and walked over to Daryl. Before she could stop him, he'd wrapped his small arms around the man's waist and squeezed. "Momma tol' me ta leave ya alone on the bus, even though I askeded her if I could go see you. Thank you fer savin' me and Momma," he said softly.

Daryl stood frozen in place before he placed his hand on the kid's head and ruffled his hair. "No problem, kid. I'm sure you'll return the favor one day."

The kid nodded enthusiastically and looked up at Daryl with an adoring expression before Danielle, a smile on her face, reached forward to pry him off of the man's hip. "C'mon, baby. Let's give Mr. Dixon some room, okay?"

Asher nodded again, and held on to his mom's hand obediently.

Ben broke the spell caused by the little boy by starting up the conversation again. "Let's pick a direction and start walking. I took the back roads for the last couple of miles, 'cause the traffic was so thick I couldn't get the bus through. Unfortunately, I didn't think about the fact that those cars would come in handy when we needed more gas. So, if we're goin' anywhere, it'll be by foot."

"East. We were goin' in that direction anyway. No reason to backtrack," Hershel said, and the people around him nodded their agreement.

"Alright, let's grab whatever we have, and get movin'," T said, and everyone filed back on the bus to grab their meager belongings.

Daryl had his crossbow and a dozen arrows, along with his best hunting knife. He had a pack of matches, half-empty, and a granola bar or two in his cargo pockets. He also had the shotgun, but only had about 8 shells left. He'd have to use them sparingly until he could find some more ammo.

After grabbing his things, Daryl stepped back off of the bus and moved a couple yards away from it while he waited for the others. Five minutes later, everyone was ready to go.

And then they walked.

After an hour, Asher was dragging his feet, so Danielle lifted him into her arms. Thirty minutes later, she was slowing the group down with her own slow progress. Daryl had finally had enough of watching her struggle.

"I'll trade ya," he said, holding out his shotgun. Danielle turned grateful eyes to him, and they stopped to carefully transfer the sleeping boy to Daryl's arms. If he had to defend them in a hurry, at least there was one more person with a gun around.

As it was, T-Dog, Hershel, Janine, and Benjamin were the only other ones with weapons; the first two with guns, the second two with knives. Jamie, Sophia, and Carol were unarmed, and that made Daryl uneasy. He needed to teach everyone how to defend themselves as soon as they settled somewhere.

Two hours later, they came across a house, set back from the road a bit. Daryl gave Danielle the kid back, and he and T-Dog checked it out before they moved everyone in.

They hunkered down there for two nights before the geeks came. They had to leave in a hurry.

The next place they found—an old, abandoned school—was the same. They stayed for a few nights, and then the geeks would find them, and they'd be forced to leave. They found a few cars on the back roads, but all of them were out of gas.

Daryl was starting to lose hope that they'd ever get off this fucking road.

After the second week, everyone was so tired they could barely walk straight. They all got decent enough sleep, but walking from sun up to sun down in the Georgia heat was enough to bring down the toughest of southerners.

Daryl knew he was about ready to collapse himself.

And then something happened that changed everything. They came upon yet another house, but this one looked different. There seemed to be bundles of sticks of some sort positioned around the front gate, and what looked like caged animals in the center of them. The gate itself was over ten feet tall, and wrought iron, to boot. The sticks seemed to be extra protection.

Daryl walked forward to get a closer look. And then someone shot at him.

He jumped backwards, raising his crossbow and darting his eyes around the house, trying to spot the shooter. T came up beside him, gun raised, and did the same.

Hershel, however, took a deep breath, and shouted. "Hello? We mean you no harm, we're just tryin' to find somewhere safe to catch our breath. We've been travelin' for weeks, and we're tired. Please, whoever you are… show us some mercy."

Daryl's entire body was tense, and he was _awake_ in a way he hadn't been in days as he waited for whoever had shot at him to make the next move.

"Leave! We don't have anythin' for you to take!" a male voice shouted. Daryl shifted his crossbow towards the direction he thought it came from.

"We don't want to take anything from you!" Jamie piped up. "We have a child with us, my nephew, and we just need a place to stay. We can help you!"

"Don't need help!" the voice shouted back.

Daryl could hear now that whoever it was, was creeping slowly towards them. He wasn't in the house; he was out here with them.

Daryl looked through his sights, trying to spot the man. He wasn't going to shoot him, but he was prepared to respond if the guy fired first.

"We don't take in strangers," the voice said, and a man stepped out from behind the bushes in front of them, on the other side of the large gate. Daryl gasped as his face came into view, and he automatically lowered his bow from aiming at the man's head.

"Morgan," he muttered, and the man looked up sharply. His eyes widened.

"Daryl Dixon? My God," he replied, his voice laced with shock. He scanned the group around Daryl, obviously evaluating. Daryl saw him take in the women, and the kid. Then he counted the number of visible weapons and men—T-Dog, Hershel, Ben, and Daryl himself.

He met Daryl's eyes. "Alright. You can stay for now, but I don't know how permanent it'll be." His brow furrowed. "Where's Rick? Merle?"

Daryl shook his head. "Dunno. Lost 'em."

Morgan nodded his understanding, and didn't ask questions, which Daryl appreciated. The entire group was staring between them with wide eyes, except Carol, who obviously knew him as well.

Hershel's brow was furrowed in concentration as Morgan opened the gate. It cleared suddenly as he walked into the front yard. "Are you the man that owns the rib shack over on Main?"

Morgan chuckled lightly. "Yeah, that's me. Don't expect any ribs 'round here, though."

"Yeah, that's where I know you from!" T-Dog joined in.

Hershel smiled. "I loved your barbeque sauce. It was delicious."

Morgan thanked him, and turned to lead them to the house, which was set back from the road about a hundred yards.

Sophia bent her head towards Carol. "I knew I recognized him."

Carol just shrugged.

Weeks passed at the house Morgan had claimed as his own. He let them stay as long as they helped out and didn't cause any trouble.

Everyone was trying their best to do just that.

The women, along with Morgan's wife Jenny, were in charge of the day-to-day things that needed to be done, but they were also getting lessons on hand-to-hand combat, knife throwing, and gun handling.

Daryl, Morgan, Hershel, T-Dog, and Ben were all on watch as any given point during the day or night. The women pitched in more and more, whenever they became comfortable handling weapons. Hershel had grown up on a farm so was seasoned in using a gun.

Morgan was former Army. He could take out a geek from a hundred yards out. He also knew how to use a knife in combat, and was a big help to Daryl when it came to training.

As for the other men… well, it was Georgia. Everyone went hunting at least once, with a dad or grandpa. T-Dog and Ben knew the basics, and were quick to remember the things they'd been taught when they were kids.

And because turnabout was fair play, after the women's lessons with weapons was over, the men learned how to clean clothes without machines, and cook without a stove.

Asher and the Jones's kid Duane got private lessons from Daryl and Morgan after they was finished with the adults. He had to make sure they were ready, just in case.

There were at least two people on watch at all times, and Daryl usually got the night shift. During the day, he was more often than not out in the woods with Ben, or T-Dog, or sometimes Morgan—though he was quicker to catch on and didn't need much help after a couple of hours—teaching them how to hunt. He let them use his crossbow some, but he also made them hunt only with knives, as there was no guarantee they'd have Daryl's bow if something happened to him.

And with the world the way it was, sooner or later there wouldn't be any more ammo to find for their guns.

Knives, though, would last you a lifetime if you took care of them.

Proper knife and gun care was always the last topic of every session with men and women alike. Daryl, Morgan, and sometimes Hershel, carefully checked every weapon, and they taught the others in the group to do the same.

When they'd been there two months, Daryl figured he'd taught everyone as much as he could. It was up to them, now.

It was about five in the evening, judging by the position of the sun, and Daryl meandered slowly to the house. He had to talk to Morgan about leaving the group. He didn't want to leave them, necessarily, but he'd been sitting here long enough.

Rick and Merle were still out there. He knew it. And he had to find them.

Pulling open the front door, Daryl bypassed the stairs and walked towards the dining room, which is where you could often find Morgan late in the day. It was where he made his plans.

He spotted the hand-drawn map in front of him, detailing the positions of the crops, which they depended on for most of their food, along with the game that Daryl and the others brought back, and the weak points of the property. Morgan was focused intently on the paper in front of him, so Daryl cleared his throat.

"Hey, Daryl," Morgan said, looking up. "What can I do for you?"

Daryl sat down across from the man and met his eyes. "I gotta go, Morgan. Merle and Rick… I need to find 'em. I stuck around, helped these folks, like I said I would, but now…"

Morgan nodded slowly, their gazes still locked. "What do you need?"

Daryl huffed a breath. The man was taking it much easier than he'd expected. "Some ammo. A ride to my truck, or another vehicle."

Morgan sighed. "Well, you know I have my car here, but it's low on gas." He pondered for a moment, deep in thought. "If you take it, you and whoever's with you have to get some more gas for it before they bring it back. Deal?"

Daryl nodded, relieved. "Yeah, deal."

"Who're you bringin'?" Morgan asked.

Daryl shrugged. "Dunno. I'll ask T-Dog first, see what happens."

Morgan nodded, and glanced down at his hands before looking quickly back up to Daryl. "I wanna tell you how much I appreciate all you've done. If it hadn't been you, I would've turned the group away, but… we're a lot safer in numbers. And you in particular have been an invaluable member of the group."

Daryl ducked his head, and stood from the table. "It's no problem. Glad you let us in. We'd 've died if ya hadn't."

Morgan gave him a small smile. "Will you come back?"

Daryl shrugged again. "Hope so. But not without them."

Morgan nodded in understanding, and Daryl gave him a nod before turning to leave.

He walked from the room, in search of T-Dog.

The house had five bedrooms, and T-Dog shared one with Daryl and Hershel on the second floor. He climbed the stairs, thinking that T might be sleeping, since he had night duty later.

As Daryl walked in the room, he saw that he'd guessed correctly. T was snoring away on a blanket, a dilapidated pillow squashed under his head. Daryl sat down on the blanket in his own corner of the room, waiting to wake him until he needed to get ready to go outside. He wouldn't need more than five minutes to ask him anyway.

Daryl leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. He wasn't comfortable being indoors with practical strangers. Even the old man, who he'd known since high school, wasn't enough of a known entity to put him at ease. Beside Carol, the kid was the only one he could stand to be around for longer than ten minutes.

Morgan had a good head on his shoulders, and was a good leader, but he was too worried about his own family to ever rule a big group very well. Hershel had been a principle, and used the skills he'd learned when dealing with rowdy teenagers in order to organize everyone. But there was no set leader in this ragtag group.

Daryl sure as hell wasn't gonna step up to claim the spot. He didn't want it.

He lifted his head when he heard rustling come for T's direction, and saw the man blinking slowly at the ceiling, trying to wake up. When he rose to a seated position, he spotted Daryl and croaked out, "Wha' time s'it, man?"

"You got about twenty minutes," he replied, and T nodded groggily.

Daryl stood and walked over to the man, who looked up at him in surprise. He wasn't really one for initiating conversations, and T was well aware of that fact, as he'd only recently given up trying to make small talk, only to have Daryl walk off or rebuff him.

"Wha's up?" T said, his brow furrowed in confusion. He was still slurring his words slightly from sleep.

"I got a favor to ask," Daryl replied uneasily. He didn't like asking people for things, it usually ended in someone disappointing him. "I need to leave, gotta find Merle. I need a ride to m'truck, and Morgan said I can take his car, only someone's gotta drive it back." He stopped there, eyebrows raised.

T nodded slowly, seemingly concerned now. "You sure you wanna be out there on your own?"

Daryl shrugged impatiently. "It's not about what I want. I need to find 'im." No reason to mention Rick to him. He probably knew, anyways. He was still their coach when they began their relationship in high school. Not much got past Coach Douglas.

"Sure, man. I'll help you," T replied, and Daryl felt a bit of the weight lift from his shoulders.

He was one step closer to looking for them.

The next morning, T and Daryl set off in Morgan's car after a teary goodbye from the kid. Asher had clung to Daryl's legs, and his tears had seeped through the fabric of his jeans.

He hated being the cause of that.

Daryl had pulled the boy's hands off of his leg gently, but held onto them as he knelt down to look him in the eye. "Listen, kid. I gotta find someone I care about. If your Ma was out there somewhere, wouldn't you wanna go find 'er?"

Asher nodded, his face wet and splotchy. "But why can't we go wit you? We can help."

Daryl gave him a smile, and patted his hands. "I 'preciate that, kiddo. But I can look faster if it's just me. I'll try to come back, ok? Just remember everythin' I taught ya, and listen to your Ma. Keep her safe. Alright?"

Asher sniffled, and nodded again before his face scrunched up and he threw his arms around Daryl's neck, hugging tightly. Daryl involuntarily stiffened at the unexpected contact, and awkwardly patted the kid's back.

Danielle stepped forward, tears in her eyes, and smiled at Daryl before pulling her son off of him. The boy turned and clung to her as Daryl stood quickly, pulled Carol into a quick embrace, and climbed into the car.

They had pilfered gas from an abandoned vehicle about an hour before, and were finally pulling into the quarry. T drove the car up the incline, his eyes peeled for geeks.

They were all gone.

After saying a quick thanks, Daryl climbed out, threw his bag, shotgun, and crossbow over his shoulders, and walked to his truck.

One look at it made him turn to his brother's bike. He could hear T pulling out to drive away behind him, though he didn't turn around. He had to decide.

On the one hand, his truck held more. On the other, the bike got fifty miles to the gallon, whereas his old truck got about twelve.

Decision made for him, then. Gas was hard to come by these days.

It was a month later that Daryl staggered back to the farm, arm broken, leg torn to shreds, and a gash across his face.

A fuckin' _person_ was in the middle of the road, and he almost hit her. He crashed, instead, and bore the brunt of his injuries. The girl was bit, and he put her down before she could turn. It was the humane thing to do, nowadays.

He'd been able to ride Merle's motorcycle most of the way back, until his arm and leg became so painful that he couldn't control it anymore. He walked the rest of the way, after parking the bike off the road, hidden in some trees.

Daryl came up to the gate, and was surprised at the number of traps set up around it. Carol was the one to see him.

"Oh, God, Daryl!" she said, running towards him, shotgun in her hands. She was obviously on watch.

At that point, Daryl couldn't hold himself up anymore, and his leg was too fucked up for him to kneel, so he just sat. Hard.

Carol opened the gate and knelt beside him, yelling for help. Her voice was fuzzy to him by now. He'd been walking for over a day, and he'd run out of water a few hours ago. He'd practically baked in the sun, and he was so fucking _tired_.

He just wanted to sleep.

Daryl felt arms under his shoulders and legs before he was lifted. He could hear people murmuring, and tried to block them out. He didn't care what they said, he just needed to sleep.

A sigh of relief escaped him as he was placed on something immeasurably soft, like a bed. Or a fucking _cloud_. He didn't care, as long as he could stay here.

Rick would like this cloud, he thought. He would tease him, because Daryl was such a stickler for having a soft motherfucking bed, when Rick himself couldn't give two shits whether it was good or bad quality, soft or firm.

The only thing important to Rick was who was in the bed with him.

Daryl, though. He never had anything nice growing up. After he and Merle bought the shop, well, then, fucking hell, he was gonna _buy_ himself something nice.

And what he bought was a bed. A _soft motherfucking_ bed.

Daryl was jostled a bit from his thoughts as he felt a hand shaking his shoulder gently. Thankfully, it was the shoulder attached to his uninjured arm, his left one.

"Wha'?" he groaned. He heard a soft, female voice saying something, but he couldn't make it out.

The voice spoke louder, and this time he could make out a bit of it. "—need you to stay awake, Daryl, you might have a concus—"

That was all he could make out before he was enveloped in darkness.

**Next chapter will be up in a few days! Thank you so much for reading, and please review if you have a minute! I love to hear what you think :)**


	10. But I know I'll do the right thing

**I'm so sorry for the wait! I moved after my last post, so I'm finally settled in.**

* I own nothing.

Chapter Ten—But I know I'll do the right thing, if the right thing is revealed

A week after making the prison their new home, Rick, Merle, Glenn, and Carl were methodically clearing out the walkers. They used knives and machetes when they could, and only resorted to guns when they had no other choice.

The four men kept in formation as they moved through the walker, as the other members of the group yelled from behind the safety of the gate, drawing their attention and killing the things when they got too close.

They were doing this in order to maintain a solid, secure perimeter. A lot of the fences had been bowed due to the pressure of having the walkers lean and push on them all at once. None of the people in the group wanted the chain-link fences to fall, or for the walkers to find a way through that the group hadn't discovered yet.

When they'd killed all of the walkers in one closed off area, the men checked the soundness of the fence, and searched for any gaps or weaknesses in that or in the wall behind them. Everyone else piled the walkers up so they could burn them.

Rick wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked away from the stench of burning, rotted bodies. He headed for the cars, as he and Merle were scheduled to make their weekly search as soon as the walkers had been dealt with. Merle met him at the car, his face red from exertion.

"Ready ta go, Grimes?" Merle said, his voice almost jovial. Rick knew it was eating him up, not knowing where his brother was or if he was safe. But Merle's reaction to any type of stress was often to push it away. Rick wasn't so talented at that, but he admired it in the other man.

"Yeah. I'm drivin'," Rick answered, jumping into the driver's seat before Merle could protest. The man loved to drive, but damn if he didn't scare the hell outta Rick when he did. He drove too close to the walkers, almost like he wanted to tease them with fresh meat that was just out of reach. He'd even tried to run a few over, but Rick had stopped him, though it'd been difficult. He'd seen what a walker could do to a car, since that was how Carl had gotten lost in the first place.

They spent hours on the road and in the woods, combing for any sign of Daryl or the group he'd been with.

They only person they came across had been a Hispanic man, probably early thirties, who'd been standing by a stalled car on the side of the road. Rick had pushed the brakes to slow down, and Merle shot him a disbelieving look.

"You fuckin' kiddin' me, Rick? Ya don't stop fer strangers!" Merle said indignantly. Rick gave him a patient stare as he slowed to a stop next to the man.

"Merle, I know you'd want someone to help Daryl if he needed help," Rick replied, and Merle scoffed at him. Rick shook his head, and rolled his window down to speak to the Hispanic man, who was eyeing them cautiously. "You need help?"

The man's gaze shifted from Rick to Merle for a second before he shook his head. "Nah. Got help comin' soon. They'll send someone when I don't come back."

Rick cocked his head. "Who's that? Your family?"

The man shrugged, his eyes searching his surroundings quickly, as if seeing if anyone was listening, before turning back to Rick. "The people where I come from."

Merle scoffed behind him, and Rick turned his head to look at him. "He's got help comin', Sheriff Do Gooder, so let's get movin'."

Instead of driving off, Rick looked at the man one last time. "This place you're from. You sure they know you're missin'? What if the walkers come before they do?"

The man laughed, and pulled a machine gun out of the window of the vehicle beside him. He kept it aimed at the ground, but Rick felt his eyes widening anyway. That was serious weaponry.

Merle apparently agreed, because Rick heard him whistle appreciatively. "Whoo-ee, that's a nice piece. Where'd ya get that?"

The man's expression became closed off so suddenly that Rick felt as if a wall went up between them. "On a run," he answered shortly.

Rick didn't think that was the whole story, but he didn't push the issue.

"Alright, well, I guess you can handle anythin' that comes by. Take care," Rick said. The man nodded at him, and Rick drove off.

"Ya think the people back at his camp have weapons like that, too?" Merle asked. Rick felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought.

"If they do, let's just hope they're not lookin' to relocate."

When they got back to the prison, the air felt heavy and dense. The atmosphere surrounding the entire place seemed to foreshadow something horrific, as if it was trying to tell Rick that something was seriously wrong.

John was on watch outside, and he opened the gate for the car, but he didn't wave, or smile, or even look Rick in the eye as he drove past.

Rick got out of the car quickly, intent on finding out what the hell was wrong. The yard was dark, as night had fallen about an hour before, and he stepped carefully to the entrance. He heard Merle keeping up behind him.

The first thing Rick saw upon entering was him mom. She was crying.

Rick felt his heart beat furiously as he walked slowly over to her. Part of him didn't want to know what had happened.

The other part knew he had to find out.

Beth had her head down, and her body was leaning against the concrete wall. Her knees looked as if they were ready to collapse at any moment. Rick reached out to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She let out a hitched sob when she looked up to see him. Her eyes were swollen and red, as if she'd been crying for a while. "O-oh, Rick," she said tremulously.

"Mom? What is it? Is it Carl, or…"

Beth shook her head as her bottom lip trembled. She bit it, trying to keep more tears from falling. "It… it's your father, Rick."

His heart plummeted at her words, and he squeezed her shoulder too tightly.

"He's dead."

Rick sat numbly in his cell, hearing his mom's voice echo around in his head over and over again.

_It's your father, Rick. He's dead._

Those were words that he had never prepared himself for. Even in this God forsaken world, where he knew that anybody could be taken in a split second, even more so than before the apocalypse, he'd never thought his Dad would go before he did.

His Dad was indestructible. He was a lawyer, for God's sake, and he'd led all of them here, to safety. He didn't have any formal training in combat, or any leadership experience, but he'd led them somewhere that they could try to rebuild their lives.

And now he was gone.

According to his mom, he, Glenn, and Carl had been clearing out some of the lower cellblocks, and they'd been overtaken. Carl and Glenn had barely made it out without being bit, but Jimmy had a chunk taken out of his side.

Carl had shot him at his request.

Rick hadn't seen his brother yet. The guilt ate at him, that he'd been gone and his little brother had to kill their father to keep him from turning. Carl shouldn't have had that responsibility.

It should've been Rick.

He pressed his fingers into his eyes, trying to stave of the tears, but it wasn't working. It was all just too much. They'd been so lucky, really, that they hadn't lost anyone since leaving the town hall.

And now they'd lost their leader, and Rick and Carl had lost their father.

His mom was a widow, now.

Rick choked out a sob, and he pressed his face into his hands, closing his eyes tightly. He sat there, in his grief, for countless minutes or hours. He lost track of time and the waves of loss hit him. Memories of his dad assaulted him, and they brought fresh rounds of tears.

Hours must have passed before Rick was cried out. He had to be strong for his mother, for Carl. For the group.

He looked up sharply when he heard a knock at the entrance to his cell. It was Carl, his face blank and impassive. Rick's heart broke all over again when he looked at him.

"Don't, Rick. Stop beatin' yourself up. You couldn't have done anythin'," Carl said, his voice low and without inflection. Tears would've come to Rick's eyes if he'd had anymore to shed.

"I still should've been there," Rick said quietly. He stood up, and took a step closer to his brother, who took a step away from him.

"Yeah, well. You weren't. Even if you were, you might not've been able to do what had to be done. I did what I had to do," Carl answered, almost defensively.

Rick's brow furrowed at Carl's tone. "I don't blame you, Carl. You did everything—_everything—_you could. Dad asked you to…" Rick took a deep breath. He couldn't say it. "You just did what he asked. You couldn't have done anythin' else."

Carl's eyes moved over Rick's face, as if ascertaining whether he was telling the truth. Then his face fell. "I—shit, Rick… he was in so much pain, and I couldn't…. I couldn't _do_ anythin', there was just so much blood, and—"

Rick moved quickly, pulling Carl into his arms and hugging him tightly. Carl collapsed against him, hitched sobs coming from his chest as he cried on his brother's shoulder.

Rick shushed him, rubbing his back gently. This was the first time he'd hugged Carl in what was probably a decade. Not since he was little, and still looked up to his big brother.

Rick was relieved that he could offer him some small measure of comfort now.

Weeks passed, and the group tried to move on. The loss of Jimmy was a great one, even to those who didn't know him well.

He was their leader. He laid out the plans, told everyone what to do to keep the group going. He hadn't been in that position for long, but they were still large shoes to fill.

Rick found that they were looking to him now, more often than not. He didn't know if it was because of his own merit, or if it was due to his being Jimmy's eldest, but he was uncomfortable with it all the same.

He didn't want to be here, running things and making decisions. He wanted to be out there, looking for Daryl, or going on runs, or keeping watch over the fence. He didn't mind being the leader, and he probably would have in different circumstances, but not with Daryl still out there.

"Hey, Rick!" he heard as he passed through the cellblock. He looked up to find John at the top of the steps.

"Yeah?"

"Who's on watch next? I did it last night, and Glenn had it first thing this morning. Timmy should be gettin' off any minute now, but there's no one lined up to take over,"

John said, raising an eyebrow.

"You couldn't figure this out on your own?" Rick asked, exasperated.

"Look, man, I'm not the leader of this group. I don't tell people what to do, I just do what I'm told. Just thought I'd give you a heads up," John replied lightly.

Rick sighed. "I'm not either. Look, just go ask Dale if he can take the next watch, alright? Maybe make up a schedule. I know it got thrown off when…I know it needs to be rewritten, just do it, okay?"

John nodded. "Got it, boss."

Rick opened him mouth to retort, but John had already walked off.

Fuck.

Rick walked to the car, and he saw Merle and Carl waiting there for him.

"What's this?" he asked. "Carl, you know we can't spare you, too. What's goin' on?"

"Shorty here is gonna take over fer ya," Merle said with a grin. "Seemed to think you were needed here."

Rick's head was shaking before the man had finished speaking. "No. No, I'm not the leader of this group. Carl, get back inside."

Carl raised an eyebrow. "That an order?"

Rick sighed and pressed the bridge of his nose between two fingers impatiently. "No, it's not, just… why?"

Carl met his eyes soberly. "I know you don't want this, Rick. But we all gotta do things we don't want to." Rick's mind flashed to his conversation with his brother a few weeks ago, when he'd said that he did what he had to do for their dad.

He winced. Shit.

Carl nodded at him, following his train of thought, apparently. "I can do this. I'll help Merle search for Daryl, okay? They need you here. You're the only one who can lead like Dad did. Everyone already looks to you. You just gotta step up."

Rick stood still for a moment. He knew they were right. He'd known it for a while now. He just hadn't wanted to give in.

Rick met his brother's eyes and nodded. He gave him a quick hug, patting his back. "Get on, then. I'll open the gate."

Carl smiled at him. "See you soon."

"Yeah. Be safe. Carl, don't let him drive," Rick replied, and Merle shot him an affronted look. Carl just laughed and climbed into the driver's seat.

Winter set in. The prison was cold, and the group huddled together most nights to stay warm, wearing every article of clothing they could find to fight the chill. There was a small fire going, and Rick looked to his right to see his mom gazing sightlessly into it, deep in thought.

She'd started to act more like herself in the last few weeks. The grief was still fresh, and painful, but it wasn't as raw. She'd become more attentive about making sure everyone was as healthy as they could be, and had even been spending more time with her boys.

Maggie was pretty big now. Beth said she was about 5 months along, which meant the baby would be born at the dawn of springtime. Rick was relieved that they wouldn't have to deal with an infant in the freezing cold of winter.

Members of the groups were going on more frequent runs, as they had to stock up for the baby and food was getting harder to find. They were only finding enough for about a week at a time now, and they had to go further and further out each time.

Each person in the group had learned to contribute over the months they'd been there. Rick had given gun training to everyone who needed it, and all of them had taught each other how to fight with knives and machetes.

Aiden, the orphaned teenage girl, seemed to come into her own when it came to fighting walkers. No one knew it until Carl had gotten separated from the group that had gone in to kill a bunch of them that were finding their way into the prison.

She'd shown them real fast that she was an asset that had been overlooked.

Aiden was small and thin, but she had real power behind her swings. When Carl had gotten cut off, he'd been instantly surrounded by a dozen walkers, and he tried to fight them all off, but he didn't have a wall at his back so he was getting attacked on all sides.

Rick had tried to turn the group around and go back for him, but he was too slow, and he knew it. He yelled Carl's name ineffectually as he, Merle, and Tommy tried to fight their way over to him.

Then out of nowhere, Aiden slipped through a gap in the fence, and darted her way through the hoards. She took out no fewer than Carl himself, her back pressed to his as she helped get them back over to the others.

Everyone's mouths were agape as they took down walker after walker. Carl just stared at her afterwards. She stood straight and proud, blood streaked across her pale cheek, as if getting ready to defend her actions, when he'd simply swept her up into a hug and held on tight. She's squeaked in shock, which was rather incongruous with her earlier actions, and hesitantly hugged him back.

"Where the fuck did you learn to fight like that?" Carl said when he pulled back.

Aiden had shrugged, her face bright red from everyone's attention. They were all still staring at her as they stood in the middle of the massacre, walker bodies strewn about the concrete. "Just watched y'all, I guess."

Merle had chuckled. "Well, darlin', you can have my back any day."

Aiden had blushed deeper at the praise. Indeed, it wasn't any person that Merle trusted at his back. In reality, Rick and Carl were the only ones that he really wanted there.

And now the small, orphaned teenager was among the select few.

Tommy, the computer geek, had found out that he was quite an incredible shot. When he'd excelled at Rick's training, the man had asked for additional tips, but Rick didn't really have any to give.

So Tommy had gotten a gun, and practiced by himself. He may have wasted a few bullets on aimless walkers, but it was worth it when he showed the others what he could do. Rick didn't think he'd ever seen the man miss. Merle and Daryl were the only ones he thought could compete with him for accuracy.

John and Merle had made themselves extremely useful by bringing back vehicles with them when they went on runs. They'd find cars on the side of the road, and bring them back to secure the fence. It bowed less now that there were huge, jacked up trucks bolstering them. And there were plenty of trucks to find in Georgia.

Amy had been learning how to help with Maggie's pregnancy, and had been getting lessons from Beth on what to do. The two women were responsible for the well being of a woman and her baby, and were taking the job seriously. Amy had also learned the basics of first aid. They'd learned that it was good to have more than one person trained to do each task, since no one's safety was guaranteed.

Now, as they sat around the fire, Rick tried to keep his mind on who was in front of him, and not on who was missing. It was inevitable, though, that he thought of Daryl. He often did, in quiet moments. He'd wonder where he was, if he was all right. What they'd be doing now if they were together.

Daryl wasn't here, though, and the thought brought pain to Rick's heart. He stood up to pace the cellblock, his eyes darting to the entrance every so often, waiting. Merle and Carl had gone on their weekly search for any sign of Daryl, and were due back any moment.

Rick got distracted from his waiting when his mom came over with a list of things they still needed for the baby. When they finished going over the list, he realized the men were over a half hour late.

Aiden watched him from across the room as they paced, obviously worried as well.

When three more hours had passed, Rick was in the guard tower trying to figure out who all was going to go on the search party when dawn broke. Then he heard the car coming up the path.

"John! Open it!" he yelled to the man, who was standing near the gate. Merle came tearing in just a second later, and Rick ran downstairs to meet them as they exited the car. Rick pulled Carl into a hug, then pulled back to assess him.

He didn't look injured, but it was difficult to see him in the dim light.

"Where the hell have y'all been?" he asked, and Merle laughed humorlessly.

"Let's go inside, Sheriff. This ya need ta hear," he said. Rick nodded and quickly asked John to take over his watch.

They walked into the prison, and were immediately intercepted by Aiden, who threw herself into Carl's arms. Rick expected his brother to look shocked, or at least startled, but the look on his face was neither of those. He simply looked relieved.

Rick wondered just how observant he was about those around him. He sighed. There was always to time to figure it out later.

He and Merle walked past the pair as Carl and Aiden whispered to each other. Finally Carl pressed a quick kiss to the girl's lips before running to catch up to his brother.

Rick had a grin on his face, and Merle looked ready to make a comment, but Carl cut them off with a quick, "I don't wanna talk about it," and led the way up the stairs to Rick's cell.

He decided to give his brother a break for now. He could harass him later.

"Now, tell me what's goin' on," Rick said as he entered his cell, the others right behind him. Carl shot Merle a look, then paced to the end of the cell before turning back to Rick.

"We found a town. They call in Woodbury. It's a whole community of people, and there's one guy who's leadin' 'em. Calls himself the Governor. Real nasty piece o' work," Carl started.

Rick's brow furrowed. "That's why y'all were late?"

Merle chuckled. "Let us finish, Sheriff. These people got heavy artillery, jus' like that sumbitch we ran into a few months ago. Remember?"

Rick nodded. How could he forget?

"Well, I'm guessin' that these're the people he was talkin' 'bout," Merle continued. "We come across this town, jus' drivin' by, mindin' our own business. We see a big wall, and stop to investigate, and suddenly we got a dozen guns pointed at our heads."

Rick turned wide eyes to Carl, who nodded. "They took us to the Governor. I recognized him from this one time that Daryl took me out huntin'. We stopped at a diner on the way outta town, and this asshole tries to start a fight with 'im. Daryl blew him off, but he was _pissed_ after. I think his name was Phil, or Phillip. Anyway, this Governor guy, he asks us what we're doin' out here, and we say we're just passin' through. He lets us go without much fuss, but when we were leavin', Merle says we got a tail. The bastard had us followed, tryin' to figure out where we're stayin'."

Merle nodded. "We was tryin' to ditch the fucker; _that's_ why we're late."

Rick thought hard. Phillip? The name sounded familiar, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. It was a common name, of course, but he'd never personally known one. Or, he didn't think he did.

He'd think more on it later.

"You think they know where we are?" Rick asked.

Merle shrugged. "We lost the tail, but that don't mean he won't find us. It's an awful big prison, Rick, pretty easy to spot."

"They could take us out, easy, Rick," Carl said. "We need to think about what we're gonna do if he _does_ find us."

Rick sighed. Shit. "Yeah, we do. But for now, let's get some rest. Y'all both haven't slept in over 24 hours, and you look about ready to drop. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Both men nodded, and left his cell. Rick sat heavily on his bed, deep in thought. Could they leave? They had a life here; they'd found a place where they felt safe.

Was this Governor guy gonna fuck all that up for them?

Rick lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.

Daryl woke slowly. The throbbing in his arm and leg, not to mention his head, was most likely what woke him. He gritted his teeth in pain, and kept his eyes shut, though he desperately wanted to see if there were any pills lying nearby that he could take.

Everything fucking _throbbed_.

When he felt someone sit beside him, Daryl realized that he was on a bed. He probably would've appreciated how comfortable it was if he didn't want to cut his own leg and arm off at the moment.

"Daryl?" a female voice said, and Daryl flinched at the noise, though she didn't speak that loudly. He felt a hand gently touch his uninjured arm, and finally wrenched his eyes open to see who the fuck was _touching_ him.

Sophia.

"_What_?" he rasped, his voice low and aggravated.

Sophia didn't even blanch at his harsh tone. "How are you feelin'?" she asked softly.

Daryl jerked his arm out of her grasp, though it didn't so much jerk as slide slowly across the bed because he was so fucking drained. He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to keep most of the light out of his eyes. "'bout as good as I look," he replied, his voice low.

Sophia nodded, and leaned over him to gently inspect his damaged arm, the left one, which was wrapped up in gauze. She nodded to herself, and stood up to get better access to his left leg, which was wrapped from his calf to the top of his thigh. His jeans were cut up to just above that, obviously Sophia's or one of the other's work so that his leg could be worked on.

"I'm gonna unwrap this, see how it's doin', alright?" she said, making eye contact with him. Daryl nodded silently.

Sophia began to gently unwrap the leg, and her practiced hands barely jostled him at all. When she was done, he lifted himself onto his right elbow to peer down at the damage.

_Shit_.

He could barely remember the accident, really. He knew what happened, but as soon as he hit the pavement and started to skid, he mostly blacked out. Or maybe he just blocked what happened. He thought he'd heard something like that from Rick, once, that people could block out painful experiences. Self-preservation or some shit.

Daryl never thought he was the type to do that, though. After all, he could remember every beating his old man dished out.

Daryl laid back down on the bed and closed his eyes. His mangled leg was all he could see when he did that, but the fucking light was making his headache worse, so he just dealt with it. The leg was mostly a large scab, now, with patches of skin ripped clear off. He doubted he'd be walking for a couple of months.

He had to, though. Fuck if he was gonna lay here like an invalid while everyone fussed over him.

Despite his lack of memory of the actual accident and direct aftermath, Daryl could remember walking back here. He remembered Carol, her hands wrapped around a shotgun, yelling his name.

Thank God she was alright, he though dimly through his headache.

He suspected that he'd hit his head on the asphalt during the crash a well. There was blood running down his face when he was walking here, he recalled.

Daryl felt Sophia finish wrapping fresh bandages around his leg, and then she moved up to the head of the bed. He cracked open an eye when he felt her prodding at his forehead.

"What're ya doin'?" he grumbled.

"You have a gash across your face. I'm guessing from hitting it on the ground during the accident. This _was_ a motorcycle accident, right?" she replied. Daryl nodded sullenly, closing his eyes again. Merle was gonna kill him for wrecking his bike. He'd never crashed a vehicle in his life, and that's the one he decided to start with?

Sophia walked across the room and he heard the rattling of pills in a bottle. He squinted his eyes open at that.

Sophia walked back over to him, holding out two pills. She had a glass of water in her other hand. "I'm afraid I can't give you all the pain meds you need. We're short on supplies, and it has to last us."

Daryl nodded, and reached his hand out for the pills. He put them in his mouth, took the water from her, and swallowed them gratefully. "Done the best you could. 'ppreciate it," he grunted.

Then he laid his head back down and closed his eyes. He heard her leave a moment later, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The last month had been hell. Daryl allowed himself to think about it now that he was alone again. He wanted to give the pills time to take effect before trying to sleep. He didn't think he could sleep with all the pain he was in, anyway.

That was a big deal for him. His Dad whooped him so often that it was strange for him to go to bed without aching somewhere. This was fucking worse than all of those times, though.

Daryl had started at the quarry, and gone straight to Atlanta. He'd planned on meeting Rick there before they got separated, and that's the last place Merle went, so it was the logical place to start.

What Daryl had found still made him sick to his stomach. He'd combed the streets, evading the dead that tried to feed on him, and gone from one end of the city to another. He'd spent two weeks there, just in case one of them showed their faces. He climbed to the rooftops of buildings to get a better view, and even holed himself up in some office buildings to sleep in.

It was on top of one of these buildings that he'd found Walsh. He'd climbed the skyscraper to begin with because there was a tank—a fucking _tank_—in the middle of the street, and he'd hoped to get a glimpse of more from on top of the roof.

There weren't any more tanks. Walsh, though… him, he'd found lying in a pool of his own blood, a bullet hole through his head.

Had his brother done that?

Daryl shook his head, and winced as the movement jostled his broken arm. Merle wasn't a killer. He'd never been busted for anything near as serious as murder. Besides, Daryl knew him. Sure, Merle talked big, but he'd never taken anything more than his fists to anyone. He was fucking bomb with a gun, but he could never shoot someone in cold blood.

What if Walsh had pulled on him first? Tried to kill him?

But what motive did the asshole have to do that? Merle was a pain in the ass, but he was also a good fucking asset to have in the apocalypse. Did Walsh hate him that much?

Daryl had followed what trail he could find. He though it looked as if more than one person was on the roof with his brother, but he couldn't be sure. The bullet holes behind Walsh, which had lodged in the short wall, were a different caliber than the one that pierced the man's skull. But Merle could've found another gun and used it for the kill shot.

What the hell had happened on that roof?

Daryl was brought from his thoughts when a light knock sounded on his door. A moment later, it was pushed open, and he barely caught a glimpse of a short blur before Asher was bounding onto the bed.

"Asher! No!" Danielle hissed as she ran in behind him. "I said we could visit him, not that you could jump on him! He's injured, honey, get down."

"He's alrigh'," Daryl said quietly, and her eyes darted to his, surprised. Asher was currently lying on his chest, his little face right in front of Daryl's, a bright grin lighting up his features.

"Mr. Dixon!" the kid shouted, and the man winced and clapped his hand over Asher's mouth. The kid looked confused, and tried to push his hand away, but Daryl didn't budge. He shook his head at the kid.

Danielle moved closer and placed a hand on the kid's back. "I think he wants you to be quieter, honey. His head probably hurts," she whispered. Daryl shot her a grateful nod.

Asher nodded quickly, and Daryl removed his hand. "I'm so glad ye came back, Mr. Dixon. I missed you," the kid whispered loudly, and Daryl cracked a smile.

"Missed you, too, kid," he said croakily, and Asher beamed at him. It was odd for Daryl to be fine with someone touching him without his say-so, but for some reason, the kid's proximity didn't bother him. He narrow chest was pressed to Daryl's, but his legs were hanging almost off the bed, so they weren't touching his scraped up leg. Daryl's uninjured arm was wrapped around him from when he'd had to clap his hand over the kid's mouth, keeping him from toppling off.

Asher leaned forward quickly and pecked Daryl's cheek, then pulled back and laid his head down on the man's chest. Daryl quickly smothered the instinct to gasp in shock, and just closed his eyes to try to sleep. He could hear Danielle moving in the room, but he wasn't worried about her.

The kid and Carol had been the only ones from the group that'd really crossed his mind since he left, and now that he knew they were alright, he could rest for a while.

A month later, and Daryl could finally hobble around on his leg. Not for long, but enough to be of some help, finally. He'd been going stir crazy in that room, and he'd gotten so sick of it that he was even happy to say goodbye to the bed when he was finally able to sleep in the room he shared with Hershel and T again.

He couldn't, however, use his left arm. If it'd been his right that had broken, he figured he'd be able to use his crossbow again in just two or so months. But he was right-handed, and he needed the dexterity of that hand to aim and use the trigger. He needed his left at full strength to hold the damn bow up.

But he didn't see that happening soon. At least, not soon enough for him.

He was taking watch from lunchtime to dusk, and his spot on the roof was windy, almost cold. His tough, hunter's skin, was used to the elements, but the temperature was dropping all the time. It might even snow this year.

"Daryl!" he heard from down below. He craned his neck over the edge of the roof and spotted Carol, her face upturned towards the sun, her hand covering her eyes as she looked at him. She smiled.

"What?"

"There's a group meetin'. Morgan wants you there, told me to take over your post," she yelled up to him.

Daryl shook his head and sat back down on the roof, resuming his watch. "No thanks. You go on ahead," he yelled back. He heard her shout his name again, but he ignored her.

Morgan had been trying to get him to step up into a leadership position in the group since a few days after his return. Daryl wasn't interested. He just wanted to heal up, and then get the hell back out there to find the people he loved.

If he could help these people out while he was stuck here, he was happy to do it. But he wasn't gonna lead. It was the last thing he wanted, and the very last thing they needed: a leader hell bent on getting out.

Ten minutes later, Daryl heard footsteps behind him. He turned to find Ben a few yard away, looking impressed that Daryl had heard him from such a distance. "I was tryin' to be quiet, too," he said, his mouth quirked.

Daryl didn't answer, he just turned back around to watch the land. He heard Ben clear his throat and move closer.

"What d'you want?" Daryl said shortly. He'd been withdrawing more and more from the people in the group They needed to learn not to depend on him too much, like they had when he was gone. He wasn't gonna be around too much longer, after all.

"Morgan—" Ben started, but Daryl cut him off.

"Tell Morgan to mind his own," he said harshly. "While yer at it, you do the same. Get the hell outta here and leave me be."

Ben chuckled humorlessly. "What the hell did you see out there to become such a dick, man? I mean, you were always quiet, but since you got back…"

The glare Daryl shot him had Ben closing his mouth real fast. The man shook his head, hands held out pacifyingly, and backed away from the hunter. "Sorry. I didn't mean anythin' by it, we're just… worried about you."

"Well, don't be," Daryl said loudly. "I can handle myself. Now, leave. Don't make me say it again."

Ben nodded, and left the roof.

Daryl sighed. He knew he was being a dick, but he'd lost his patience with these people. They were good people, all of them. But they weren't his. Except for Carol—and he had to reluctantly admit that the kid fell in there as well—all of the people he gave a damn about were out there, probably fighting for their lives.

And here he was, stuck on a roof, with a gimp leg and a useless arm.

Daryl shook his head, clearing it of those useless thought, and focused on his job.

Five more months passed in this fashion. Daryl didn't reintegrate into the group, except to help out with chores and watch. T-Dog was the last one to keep trying to talk to him, but eventually even he gave up.

In the end, Daryl only really ever spoke to Carol and Asher. He was civil to Danielle, since she was the kid's mom, but he never really said much to her.

By the time Daryl'd been back for six months, his leg was almost back to normal. He still limped a bit, but Sophia said it was probably going to stay that way indefinitely. He'd been working with his bow for the last three weeks, everyday for a few hours. He was able to hold it up for longer intervals everyday, and his aim was getting better as well.

Because his left arm held up the bow, aiming was more difficult. When his strength waned, or his arm wavered due to decreased muscle mass, the bow would fall just a fraction, but that was enough to make a difference between a kill shot and being geek food.

At the six month mark, Daryl could hold the bow up for more than ten minutes without a break, and his aim was practically back to normal. His normal, of course, was impeccable.

He was walking back to his room after letting Morgan know he would be heading out in a couple of days. He didn't care if he had a vehicle this time. He'd make it alright on foot.

Daryl climbed onto his bedroll and closed his eyes. He had watch in two hours, and he hadn't slept in a few days. If he was going to last out there on his own. He needed to get rest now, while he could.

Screaming from outside had him shooting up in a heartbeat.

**This chapter doesn't have much going on, I know, but the next one does, TRUST ME. I saved up all the action so that the next chap would be full of good stuff. This one is mostly to show the passage of time. There's a reason for it, I promise.**

The boys are gonna be together again soon!

Please review if you have a moment, and let me know what you think :)


	11. Cause when it's over, all that matters

**What? Two chapters in two days? It's a miracle!**

*I own nothing.

Chapter Eleven—Cause when it's over, all that matters is the love you gave away

The baby was born in what Rick guessed was early March. He came out healthy, and both he and Maggie were doing great. It was a load off all of their shoulders, as everyone in the group had been stressed about the outcome of the birth.

Some happiness finally came to the group.

Maggie named him Jude, which she said was her father's middle name. Rick hadn't given much thought to Hershel Greene, but he saw Maggie give Merle a smile when she told everyone the reason behind the name.

He realized he'd never asked who else was in the group with Daryl. He pulled Merle aside later to ask him about it.

"Was anyone else I know in the group with y'all, at the quarry?" Rick said. Merle nodded, his forehead creasing in thought.

"Sure. Carol, fer one," he replied. Rick felt shame course through his body that he hadn't even thought much of her since this whole thing happened. He was relieved she had Daryl to look out for her. There was no one better to have your back than him.

"Who else? Hershel Greene?"

Merle met his eyes. "Caught tha', did ya?"

Rick nodded. "You told her when you got here?"

Merle shrugged, and dropped his gaze. "She asked, is all. Jus' told her what I knew."

Rick smiled at him. "You gave her hope that she'll see her father again. That's no small thing."

Merle wouldn't meet his eyes as he continued. "That coach, too. T-Dog, or whatever. Stupid ass name if ya ask me."

Rick held in a laugh. That was a deflection if he's ever heard one.

"There was the school nurse, and a coupla other people I'd never met before. Daryl hadn't either, so I doubt you know 'em," Merle finished.

"Thanks, Merle. I appreciate it," Rick said. Merle scoffed and walked off while Rick held in a grin. That man was a marshmallow inside, he just knew it.

Rick hadn't heard anything more about the Governor or Woodbury since the incident a few months prior. He had decided to take the problems as they came, and so far the whole town had left them be. Rick figured he could extend the same courtesy.

It never left his mind, though, that it was possible the only reason they hadn't been attacked was because Merle had ditched the tail that night. The Governor could be looking for them, still.

He pushed it away from his mind for the moment. He and Glenn were going on a run for the baby, and he had to keep his head in the game. They had most everything they needed, but babies always needed something else, it seemed. Maggie had been having problems producing enough milk, and Jude's meals were being supplemented by formula.

It wasn't a surprise, really. They were all undernourished. Rick could see his rib bones when he cared enough to look.

They'd gotten enough for a week or so that first time they realized they needed formula, but they were almost out now. Rick and Glenn were gonna hunt some down. The damn stuff was hard to find.

"You drivin'?" Glenn asked as he walked to the car. He'd just kissed his wife and son goodbye, and he looked as if he wanted to turn right back around. He kept moving, though. Rick had to admire him for that.

"Sure," Rick replied, clapping Glenn on the shoulder. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Glenn and Maggie were some of the first friends he made when he moved to their town. They hadn't kept in touch, really, but Rick had always thought of them fondly. When he'd heard from his parents that they'd gotten hitched, he'd felt happy for them, but he'd felt no desire to seek them out.

Now here he was, telling Glenn what to do in order to survive in the apocalypse. The world was funny that way.

Rick drove down the path and waved to Tommy, who opened the gate for them, a rifle clutched in his hand.

They drove for two hours, stopping occasionally to check out stores along the way, but found nothing. Rick pulled into the fourth town they passed, and saw a big outlet mall, with a chain of stores connected together. He pulled into the overlarge parking lot, his eyes sweeping the storefronts for anything useful. It was still full of cars.

Walkers roamed everywhere, spread out and in groups. A few of them turned their heads at the sounds of the car, but Rick avoided them as best he could. He knew if they had to step out of the vehicle, they'd have plenty to deal with then.

"There!" Glenn said excitedly, his hand pointed to the right. Rick looked out the passenger window, and his eyes fell on a large sign, "Buy Buy Baby." The storefront had carriages, cribs, and, _yes_, bottles and formula.

Rick turned the car in an arch and drove to the store. He parked directly in front of it, and swept his eyes over the area. A lot of people must've died here, by the looks of it. With the parking lot still full, and the walkers crowding the walkways, it almost looked like a normal day at the mall.

Except all of the customers were dead.

Rick turned to Glenn, and he was met with a steely resolve. "I can go in alone, Rick. Give me ten minutes, then get the hell out."

Rick shook his head. "Nah. I got yer back. Not lettin' that baby loose his father, alright?"

Glenn nodded appreciatively. There was a pregnant pause in which both men gathered their courage, and then their doors were pushed open and they jumped out of the car.

Walkers came at them from all sides. Rick was pressed against the car, three of the dead on him, before he could even take a step away from it. He could hear Glenn fighting some of his own, but he couldn't turn around to look.

Rick gripped his knife in his hand and rammed it under the closest one's chin. It fell, but another one immediately took its place.

He would be too swarmed to get out of this soon.

"Guns!" he shouted, and he pulled his revolver out of its holster. It would draw more in, but they already had big targets on their backs. They just needed to clear a big enough path to get to the store, to safety.

He shot the three that were close enough to bite him in quick succession. Before more could take their places, Rick darted to the left, around the trunk of the car, and tried to get to Glenn.

The man had made it halfway to the store, but he was surrounded on all sides, no wall at his back, and he was swinging his machete into as many of the things as he could reach. He didn't have time to go for his gun, it looked like.

They were overwhelming him.

There were at least two dozen of them between Rick and Glenn, and Rick had more coming up behind him. His progress was slow going, and he only had so many bullets, but he started shooting, trying to get to the other man.

Rick felt a hand on his shoulder, and smelled the stench of a rotted body, and he swung around, backing up a step instinctively as he did so, and raised his gun. He shot the walker in the head, but a scream—a _human _scream—had him turning back around fast.

A walker was biting into Glenn's arm, ripping away the flesh. Blood spurted everywhere, and the walkers went into a frenzy, pushing at each other to get to him.

Horror swept through Rick, but he staunched it quickly. Glenn didn't have the luxury of time.

He had to get him the hell out of there.

Glenn kept swinging with his good arm, taking out the walkers nearest to him, including the one that bit him. Rick knew that the only thing on the man's mind was getting that formula for his baby, and that any hope of survival for himself was secondary to that. Rick couldn't let him down.

He shot them, one by one, until he ran out of bullets. Stepping over the bodies of the unmoving dead, he pulled out his knife again, and, together, they took out the remaining walkers that stood between them.

When Rick finally reached him, Glenn's strength waned, and his arm fell to his side. His eyes wide, he took a step towards the store, his gaze fixed over Rick's shoulder.

Rick turned to look, though he dreaded what he would see.

At least a hundred walkers were coming their way. His gunfire had drawn even more in than he'd anticipated, and the time it took for them to make it to the store took longer than he'd hoped.

"Run!" he shouted, and, grabbing Glenn's good arm, pulled him along behind him.

They made it to the store, and Rick tried to break it with the handle of his knife, his elbow, his booted foot. Nothing worked, and the dead were coming closer.

"Glenn, your gun!" he said urgently. He'd forgotten about it.

Apparently Glenn had, too. He turned surprised eyes to Rick before pulling the pistol out of the back of his jeans. He shot the door quickly, and the men jumped through the crumbling glass.

They could hear the crunch of glass under the walkers' feet as they followed them, but Rick and Glenn ran through the store without looking back.

The stock room door was directly ahead, and they burst through it at full speed, Rick in front.

"I'll hold the door shut, you find the formula!" Glenn said, and Rick nodded without arguing. He had a brief glance of the man grunting in pain as he set his body firmly against the door before he ran down the first aisle.

He found it quickly, and threw a dozen of them into his bag before running back to Glenn, who looked on the verge of passing out.

"C'mon, we gotta getcha outta here," Rick said quickly as he braced his shoulder against the door next to Glenn. They couldn't hold it much longer.

"Go, Rick," Glenn said tiredly. "I'll hold 'em off as long as I can. Go back to the car, and bring that to Maggie. Tell her I love her, okay?"

Rick's jaw set in determination. "You can tell her yourself. C'mon. There's a manger's office just around the corner, I spotted it earlier. We can lock ourselves in. On the count of three."

Glenn shook his head. "It's no use, Rick. I'm dead anyway."

"You're not dead 'til you stop breathin'!" Rick shouted. "You owe it to the people you love to _try_, dammit! Now, let's go!"

Glenn met his eyes, and his expression changed in that instant. It wasn't hope, exactly, but it was close enough for him to grit his teeth against the pain, and nod tersely.

"One, two, three!" Rick shouted, and he grabbed Glenn's arm as he ran to help the man keep up. Walkers burst through after them, and only their speed kept them from being grabbed immediately.

They turned left, and Rick pushed Glenn into the open office before running in after him. Glenn closed the door, and they pressed their bodies against it as Rick turned the deadbolt.

Glenn slid down the door slowly, unable to stand any longer due to the pain. He still had his hand wrapped around the machete, and an idea came to Rick. He kneeled down next to him, and met the man's eyes.

"Glenn," he started urgently. "I don't know if this'll work, but I wanna try somethin'. The infection comes from the bite, and then it spreads to your body, right? Well, what if we cut the infected part off?"

Glenn's eyes widened as his gaze followed Rick's down to his injured left arm. He looked back to Rick, and he swallowed once before setting his jaw. "Do it."

Rick nodded, and stood up to slide off his belt. He made a tourniquet out of it, tying it around Glenn's arm tightly, and then he held out his hand for the machete.

Glenn handed it to him with a grimace, and closed his eyes.

Rick took a deep breath, and raised his arm to swing, but was stopped when Glenn's eyes shot back open.

"Rick, if this doesn't work, I want you to tell Maggie… tell her that I'll always be with her, okay? And that it was quick, and painless. And, when he gets old enough, tell Jude that his father loved him, more than anything. Can you do that?" Glenn asked, tears coming to his eyes, his voice trembling.

Rick fought off his own tears at the man's suffering, and nodded. "I'm not gonna make your wife a widow, Glenn. This'll work," he replied. "But…if it doesn't. Yeah, of course I'll tell them."

Glenn nodded appreciatively, his eyes closing again as his face scrunched up in anticipation of the pain. A single tear ran down his cheek as Rick raised the machete again.

His arm swung down in an arch.

Daryl shot to his feet as quickly as his leg would allow, and limped out the door, grabbing his crossbow and shotgun on the way. The screaming sounded like it was coming from the front yard, and he took the stairs two at a time as he went for the front door.

His leg twinged with the effort of moving too fast, but he could barely feel it through the adrenaline.

Daryl pulled open the door, and his eyes met chaos. Geeks had come in hoards, and it was too dark to see all of them. They must've come through the trees, where the people on watch wouldn't have seen them in time.

Members of the groups kept it together, much more so than the last time they were overrun, and, in the back of his mind, Daryl was impressed.

Across the yard, Morgan, Duane, and Jenny all took them out one by one, their backs to each other, guns raised, as they slowly made their way towards their car.

Daryl raised his crossbow and stepped outside, and took out a geek that was coming up on T's back, who was taking the things out methodically, trying to get the rest of the group closer to the house. Hershel was beside him, calmly shooting the fuckers who came for them.

Next to Hershel was Carol, who stood over a cowering Sophia. The woman was obviously in shock over the sudden appearance of so many geeks, and wasn't handling it well. Daryl scoffed as he moved to get Carol and the others the fuck out of there.

Where they were standing, geeks were getting to them on all sides. They didn't have to ammo to hold off the fucker for long, so they needed to get to higher ground.

Just as the thought entered his mind, a shot rang out from above him, and Daryl looked up to see Ben on the roof, his rifle raised as he shot the geeks one by one. Janine was by his side, doing the same.

"Over here!" Daryl shouted, and T, Hershel, and Carol all looked up to see him, halfway between them and the house. "I'll cover you! We gotta get to the roof, then pull up the ladder!"

He dropped his crossbow so it rested on his back, and raised his shotgun. He disposed of the geeks between them quickly, and the others ran towards him, Carol gripping Sophia's wrist tightly. T and Hershel took up stances beside Daryl as Carol drug Sophia to the edge of the house, where the ladder was propped up against it.

Daryl heard the engine of a car starting, and he looked to his left to see the Jones' car moving towards them. Duane was driving, and Daryl's eyes widened at that. All this shit, and a twelve-year-old behind the wheel is what surprised him.

Morgan and Jenny shot geek after geek, but they seemed to be heading towards the side of the house, where Daryl couldn't see. A high-pitched scream let him know that the rest of the group was over there.

Danielle and Jamie. And the kid.

Daryl nodded to T and Hershel, and they quickly followed the progression of the car around the side of the house, taking out geeks as they moved. Sophia and Carol had already made it to the roof, and Carol was taking up aim where Daryl and the others were headed.

He turned the corner, and the scene before him made him run faster.

A geek had someone pinned to the ground, and he could see the blood on its hands as it tore at the person. He didn't even take the time to figure out who it was; he just tackled the fucking thing. It rolled with him, and he quickly scooted backwards and pulled out his knife before jumping forwards and stabbing its skull.

Sobbing reached his ears, and he turned to see who the thing had gotten, his heart in his throat.

It was Danielle. Her blonde hair was matted with blood, and she was struggling to breathe, but she could barely do it. Her stomach was in shreds, and Daryl knew there was nothing they could do.

Jamie ran towards them, her arm around Asher, but when she got close enough to see the damage, she quickly turned the boy around, and blocked his mother from his sight.

Daryl stood, and made his way over to the pair. "I got 'im," he said quietly, and Jamie's tear-stained face met his before she continued over to her sister.

Asher was crying hysterically beside him, possibly because he understood what was happening. Or maybe he was just fucking terrified, Daryl didn't know. He picked the kid up, keeping his face averted from his mom and aunt, and swept his eyes across the land.

Morgan and Jenny were taking out the geeks that were coming near them. There were more, but they were far enough away to give Jamie a moment with her sister.

Daryl knew they wouldn't stay here another night.

He heard the last, gurgling breaths of a dying person—_Danielle_—and then the sickening crunch of a blade slicing through a skull.

Despite his experience as a hunter, and a killer, Daryl winced at the thought of having to stab a sibling to keep them from rising again. To be honest, he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it.

"C'mon, we gotta go," Daryl called, and Jamie rose slowly to her feet. She, Daryl, T, and Hershel made their way over to the ladder, and they climbed up to the roof, Asher still clinging to Daryl's neck.

Duane stopped the car beside the ladder, and the Jones family stepped out and joined them quickly. Then Morgan and T pulled the ladder up, just in case one of the fuckers knocked it over or figured out how to climb.

There was a tense silence in the air as everyone regained their breath. It was broken by a small, trembling voice.

"Auntie J-Jamie? Where's M-Momma?" Asher asked. Jamie's eyes filled with tears, and she moved closer to take the boy from Daryl's arms, hugging him fiercely.

Daryl turned his eyes away, and focused on the night around them.

When daybreak came, everyone was still awake. They thought of taking shifts, but no one could sleep anyway.

Hershel was the first to speak.

"Does anyone have any idea where we should go?"

His question was met with a sad kind of silence. Not just for the home they'd lost, but also for the friend, and mother, and sister.

"Should we just walk?" Ben asked. "Try to find somewhere on foot?"

Morgan shook his head. "I think I should take a scouting trip in the car, try to find somewhere. A couple of us can go. We'll come back, and then we'll all go together, to whatever we find."

His words were met with nods, and T-Dog volunteered to go with him, followed by Ben. The three men stepped down the ladder after they placed it back on the ground, and ran to the car. There weren't nearly as many geeks, but they could never be too careful.

Asher came over and pressed his face into Daryl's chest, quickly dozing off on the man. He raised his head to see Jamie, who was seated across from him, and she gave him a sad, wistful smile.

"He's lost both of his parents, now," she said softly.

Daryl nodded, but didn't know what to say. He just wrapped an arm around the boy, and kept his eyes on the horizon.

Nearly a day passed before they heard the car again. Daryl quickly made his way to the edge of the roof, and was met with T waving for him to lower the ladder again. The three men quickly climbed back up, and Morgan's voice was filled with anxiety as he spoke.

"There isn't much, honestly. Only one promising thing we could find. It's a prison," he said, and stony faces stared back at him. Surprise filtered through the group, and Carol's brow furrowed as she spoke up.

"A prison? We're gonna hole up there? How do you know if it's empty?"

Morgan shook his head. "It's not. People live there, but they don't seem to be prisoners. There's women, for one. And one of them had a baby. I think we should go to them, ask if we can join them. It's the only option I can see now, other than being nomads, moving from place to place. Unsure if we'll be able to eat that day."

His eyes fell to his wife and son, and then to Asher, who was standing with Jamie.

Daryl nodded. "Let's do it. Drive us in groups, drop us just outside of their line of sight, then we'll go together. The more women and children they see, the better."

Morgan smiled at him. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Two hours later, Daryl and Morgan led the group towards the gate of the prison. As they made their way closer, he could hear shouts, people yelling at them or each other. They were scared.

He kept his crossbow slung across his back, and his shotgun aimed to the ground. No reason to alarm anyone.

Jamie and Asher were directly behind him, and Duane and Jenny were behind Morgan.

T-Dog, Hershel, and Carol brought up the rear, with Ben, Janine, and Sophia between them. They were prepared to fight, but hoping not to.

They made it to the gate, and Daryl was faced with two men, both gripping shotguns, their faces stony. Another man was walking towards them, his strides long, but Daryl's attention was brought back to the two in front of him when one of them spoke.

"What d'you want?" the man asked, not too harshly. He didn't sound exactly friendly, either, though.

"We need shelter. We can pull our own weight, but it's too dangerous out there for the kids, and some of the women. We wanna join you," Morgan said.

The men shot each other looks, before the sounds of footsteps reached their ears. They automatically moved to the side when the third person reached them. "John, Tommy. What do they want?"

"They wanna join us," one of them replied, and the third man's eyes scanned the group. His hair was long, his face pale, but Daryl was struck by his appearance. Something was off here…

The man's eyes swept over him, almost dismissively, before shooting back to him quickly. His eyes widened, and he took a step closer. "Daryl?" he said quietly.

Daryl's heart stopped in his chest as he recognized the voice, not toughened up or lowered for the benefit of intimidating strangers. "Carl?"

"Open the gate!" Carl yelled, and the men moved to do so without hesitation. As soon as it was open, Carl grabbed Daryl and pulled him into a hug. Daryl returned it gratefully.

"Fuck, man. It's so good to see you," Carl said, and pulled back, a grin spreading on his face. Then it faltered.

Daryl felt dread coursing up his spine. "What? Carl, where's Rick?"

He could hear murmuring behind him, but he didn't give a damn what the group was saying, he just had to find out _where the fuck Rick was_.

"He, uh—" Carl started, but another voice interrupted them.

"What's all this, shorty? Ya done left the gate open fer everyone to get in! What're we, a soup kitchen?" The man's words stopped short when his eyes fell on Daryl.

And then they were moving towards each other, and Daryl finally had his brother with him again, hugging him tightly.

"I knew you were alrigh'! I told that boy o' yers, I told 'im! I said no one could take down a Dixon!" Merle said, and Daryl grunted before pulling back. He turned back to Carl quickly.

"_Where the fuck is he, Carl?"_ he said harshly, and the boy shook his head.

"We don't know. He went out for baby formula yesterday, and he never came back, he or Glenn. We were just gettin' a search party together when you showed up."

Daryl gritted his teeth against the pain of being _so fucking close_ to Rick, but too late. He met Carl's stare and nodded tersely.

"No need. I'll go get him."

**Please review and let me know what you think! Thank you for reading :)**


	12. Inside your precious heart

**Here's the reunion! I hope it lives up to expectations :)**

*** I own nothing.**

Chapter Twelve—And dig myself a little hole inside your precious heart

Daryl stared out the window as Merle drove down the highway. If he'd been paying any attention, he probably would've wondered if they'd get stranded somewhere, a dead geek wedged under the car. Merle seemed intent on sideswiping the things whenever he got close enough.

But Daryl's mind was on Rick.

His crossbow was on the floorboard, propped up between his knees, and looking at it, Daryl thought of their last day together. He hadn't allowed himself to reminisce about good days since they'd lost each other. If something had happened… if the worst possible fucking thing had come to be true…Daryl didn't think he could handle it.

That wasn't completely right. He could handle it. But only if he pushed away every good thing in his life. Every joyful moment, every kiss or touch from the person he loved.

Only if he pushed the best thing in his life out of his mind.

Daryl knew what would happen, then. If he were to lose Rick to this fucked up world. He'd become a product of it. He'd go into survival mode, not really living, and wishing all along that he would die.

Now, though… now that Rick was so fucking close… Daryl closed his eyes, and thought of the way Rick laughed at him, for becoming so upset when Rick made noise in the woods. He thought of Rick, laid out on the bed…

"Now's no time fer a nap, baby brother. Got a place ta check out," Merle said. Daryl snapped his eyes open, yet another town before them. There wasn't a geek in sight, but they had to check everywhere.

The only things they knew for sure were that Rick and Glenn went out to get baby supplies, formula in particular, and that they said they'd head east.

Well, Merle and Daryl had been going east for a couple of hours now, and they'd found shit.

Daryl sighed, hoping against all odds that they'd find Rick here, alive, in this desolate place.

A couple more hours passed, and Daryl's hope was beginning to wear thin. Merle kept driving, and Daryl kept his eyes on the road, and the forest surrounding it, searching for something, anything, that might give him a clue as to where Rick was.

His eyes quickly scanned a passing sign, and he shot to attention. "Merle," he said sharply. "Next right. Outlet mall."

"Gotcha, Darlena," Merle replied, and he turned the wheel to the right.

Two minutes later, and Daryl felt despair creep into his heart. The place was fucking _overrun_ with geeks. There had to be at least two hundred of the things, ambling around, searching for fresh meat.

Daryl turned to look at his brother, who grinned at him. "Think we mighta found the place, brother. Look at that," he said, pointing to a store window.

Daryl focused on the writing, and _fuck, yes_, it was a baby store.

And it was the only store that the geeks were _inside_ of. The glass door was shattered.

Rick was in there. He had to be.

"Think up a plan quick, or I'm just gonna wing it," Daryl said sharply, and Merle chuckled.

"You read my mind, baby brother," Merle said, and he punched the gas.

Daryl was pressed back against the seat, and his eyes opened wide at what his crazy ass brother was about to do, but he didn't say a damn thing. He was willing to try anything.

They were driving a compact car, so while they couldn't actually crush any of the fuckers under their wheels—much to Merle's disappointment—they could get through narrow openings better and make shaper turns. They bumped into geeks along the way, sending the things sprawling, but Merle just kept going, straight at the store.

As the window got closer, Daryl sent up a quick prayer to the man upstairs, who he hadn't talked to since his Ma died. _Please let him be okay._

And then they crashed.

Merle went straight through the window, and geeks were fucking _everywhere_. The car was small enough to fit in the store, though the shelves were in the way. Merle made quick work of those as they raced towards the back. Daryl kept his eyes peeled, but the only other door besides the front one seemed to be the stock room door.

And that's exactly where they were headed.

"Close yer door if ya can, Darlena, we might be able ta come back to it," Merle said as he screeched to a halt.

"Let's go," Daryl replied, and he pushed open the door, crossbow raised, and stepped out into the chaos.

Daryl shot a geek in the head, and stepped back from the car to close the door. He heard Merle do the same on the driver's side. Daryl reloaded, backing up all the while towards the door, and kept an eye on Merle, who was swinging his knife to his heart's content, taking down one after another.

"Run! I'll catch up!" Merle shouted, and Daryl took the opportunity. Merle could take them down quicker than he could, with their weapons of choice.

Daryl tore through the stock room door, and ran up the first aisle, but he didn't see anything, except a few geeks. He pulled his knife and cut them down. Rounding the end, he ran down the only other aisle, his breathing staggered. He took down the geeks on this row, his mind only half on the task.

Daryl's eyes landed on what must be the manager's office, and his heart skipped a beat. The door was closed firmly.

He hurried forward, and pounded on the door. "Rick!" he shouted. "Rick, are you in there? It's Daryl! Open the fuck up if you're in there!"

He heard shuffling behind the door, and then a crash. His heart sped up, and he looked quickly around him to make sure no more geeks were around.

The door open, and Daryl was face to face with Glenn. He pushed his way past the man without hesitation, and his eyes scanned the room.

When his eyes fell on Rick, crumpled in the corner, he felt a piece of him die. No.

"He's okay," Glenn said behind him. Daryl whirled to face him, his eyes narrowed against the tears that wanted to form. He turned and moved quickly to Rick's side, his heart beating fast at finally seeing the man again.

He looked like he was asleep.

"What's wrong with 'im," Daryl said, kneeling beside Rick, his hand going to the man's pulse point in his throat. It wasn't that strong, but it was there.

"Exhaustion, I think. And…" Glenn's breathing was labored, and he sat down hard. Daryl's head turned to really look at him for the first time, and _holy fuck_…

Glenn opened his eyes and smirked at the expression on Daryl's face. "Your boyfriend did that. He saved my life."

Daryl's eyes moved quickly from Glenn's hacked-off arm to Rick, who was as still as he'd been when Daryl'd arrived. Rick had done that? "Bit?"

Glenn nodded, his eyes closed again, his face a grimace of pain. "I know that Rick hasn't slept in at least three days. When he's not on watch, he's with Maggie and the baby, or helping his mom. He barely eats, always gives half his food away to other people. I'm surprised he's lasted this long, to be honest."

Daryl's eyes roamed his lover's face as Glenn's words registered. Rick looked so tired, even in his sleep. Daryl placed his hand on Rick's face, caressing gently. The man didn't stir.

"Not to mention having to lead the group. That would get to anyone," Glenn continued, hos words getting more and more pained.

In the distance, a gunshot went off.

Daryl's mind snapped back to the present. _Fuck_. He had to get them outta here. Merle had resorted to his gun, so he must be getting desperate.

"Can you walk?" Daryl asked quickly, as he moved to lift Rick up.

"Yeah," Glenn said, using the wall as leverage to pull himself to his feet.

Daryl got Rick to his feet, and then lifted him up onto his shoulders, in a fireman's carry, holding his knife in the other hand. He met Glenn's eyes.

"Let's go."

They made it back to the car, and Merle had gotten them the hell outta there, running over a decent amount of geeks on the way out. Merle's excuse was that he couldn't be expected to back out of a crowded store and _not_ hit one.

Daryl didn't give a damn what he did. He had Rick in his arms again.

They were in the backseat, and Rick's body was propped up against his own. His breathing was shallow and slow. Daryl pressed his lips to the man's temple and closed his eyes.

He couldn't believe he'd finally found him.

Daryl felt wetness gather in his eyes, and he didn't bother to wipe it away. He tightened his arms around Rick, feeling the thinness of his body, the boniness of his ribs, his concave stomach.

He was lucky to have survived this long.

Daryl's eyes jerked open when he felt Rick stir against him. He pulled back far enough to see the man's face, and he felt a smile come to his lips when Rick's eyes fluttered slightly.

"Rick?" he said softly, grabbing and squeezing the man's hand.

Rick's eyes opened further this time, and his unfocused, glassy stare moved around the car before settling on Daryl. His brow furrowed. "Dar… Daryl?" he asked slowly, drowsily.

Daryl nodded, his hand coming up to brush Rick's bangs away from his face. "It's me, Rick. I found you. I'm here."

Rick's eyes closed, and he shook his head awkwardly. "No. No… Can't be dead… was s'posed to find you…"

Daryl's forehead creased in confusion. "What? Rick. Rick!"

But the man was asleep again.

When they got to the prison, it was almost dusk. Daryl carried Rick in his arms to the cell that Beth used as a medical center. Merle helped Glenn inside, then stood in the hall to wait.

Daryl stayed with Rick. He wasn't leaving his side.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Beth said tearily, pulling Daryl into a hug. He squeezed back, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Merle told me abou' Jimmy. I'm so sorry, Beth," Daryl replied quietly, and he felt the woman nod against him. She pulled back, and kissed him on the cheek, before stepping away.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she replied softly, as she moved to her son's side.

They'd passed Carl on the way inside, so he knew his brother was alive at least, but Daryl expected him to come in soon. He'd looked more worried than Daryl had ever seen him, unsurprisingly.

Daryl had laid Rick down on the bed, and he watched the man's chest rise and fall slowly. His heart was in his throat as Beth checked his vitals, and tears ran down her cheeks as she took in his thin form.

She stood up, and brushed the tears away before facing Daryl.

"I'm sorry, Daryl," she said, and he felt his heart stop before she hurried to continue.

"_No_, sweetheart. He'll be okay, as long as we keep an eye on him. _I'm sorry_ that I didn't watch him more closely, make sure he was eating and sleeping. You know him as well as I do, how he takes things on, and let's the weight of the world rest on his shoulders." She smiled sadly. "You're the only person in the world I ever saw him willingly share that weight with."

Daryl shook his head, and moved to sit next to Rick. "There's nothin' you coulda done. We both know he's more stubborn than a mule. Jus' tell me what to do, an' I'll do it. You focus on Glenn over there."

His eyes shot to the injured man, who was sitting on the other bed that had been squeezed into the cell, and who Amy was currently working on.

Beth nodded, her smile more genuine now. "It's so good to have you back." She kissed his cheek quickly before continuing. "He's malnourished, sleep-deprived, and severely dehydrated. When he wakes up, which should be in an hour or two, get him to drink a lot of water, and some broth if you can. We have some cans in the kitchen area, I'll bring some to you in a bit. We'll feed him solids in a day or so, when his stomach's up to it."

Daryl nodded, his eyes moving to Rick's face. "I'm gonna stay in here."

"No, sweetheart, you're gonna stay in Rick's cell. With Rick," she said, and Daryl smiled at her.

They got Rick moved, with Merle's help, and a few minutes later the man came back carting cans of broth, a can opener, a bowl, a glass, and a jug of water.

"She's got you wrapped around 'er finger, don't she?" Daryl said humorously, and Merle scoffed.

"Jus' sweetenin' her up," he replied, and Daryl laughed, for what felt like the first time in almost a year. Merle left him, muttering something about seeing who in his old group made it.

And then they were alone.

Daryl took off his shoes, and his vest, before sliding Rick's shoes off his feet as well, and climbing onto the bed next to him. Daryl's back was to the wall, and he faced the slumbering man, who was on his back, his breathing steady.

Daryl rested a hand on Rick's chest, and kept his eyes open and trained on the man's face for as long as he could before drifting off to sleep.

Rick didn't want to open his eyes. He knew where he'd be, and he wasn't ready to be there yet.

Daryl was still out there, and he was supposed to find him.

Rick slowly came back to consciousness, and he could feel his body—which was strange, because he didn't think there was any pain in heaven—and he knew he was breathing. His legs hurt from running, and his head was pounding behind his eyelids. He was hungry, and thirsty, and so fucking tired.

None of this made any sense.

Rick opened his eyes slowly, preparing himself for the worst. Above him was a grey, concrete ceiling. What the hell?

He slowly turned his head to the right, and he realized that he was in his own cell. How the fuck had he gotten back here?

Rick became slowly aware that he felt a strange pressure on his chest. He turned his a head a fraction at a time, wary of his headache, until he could see the hand.

It was male. And dirty. And the owner of it chewed on his nails, Rick could tell.

His heart started thumping wildly at that. There wasn't any possible way that _he_ could really be here. Was there?

Rick didn't want to turn his head the rest of the way. He didn't want to find out that he was hallucinating, or dreaming. He wanted to stay in this fantasy until the day he died, or found his Daryl again. He didn't think he could live with the bed being empty.

"Finally woke up?" he heard from beside him, and Rick clenched his eyes shut. Oh God. Now he was _hearing_ him.

"Rick?" Fake Daryl rasped quietly, his hand moving up on Rick's chest.

Rick shook his head, and he struggled to take in a breath.

"Look at me, Rick," Fake Daryl said firmly, and the instinct to do so was ingrained in him, so Rick did it without even thinking.

_Fuck_, he was so gorgeous. His imagination was something to behold, apparently, because even covered in a thick layer of grime and dirt, his hair overly long and darker than when it was short, his clothes old and dirty, Daryl was still the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. His clear blue eyes were the same, as was his pale skin.

And his expressions. Right now, he looked worried, and maybe relieved, too. Rick ran his eyes over Daryl's face, memorizing every feature in case he disappeared.

"You alright?" Daryl asked. Rick nodded dazedly, and reached out a hand to touch the man's face. Daryl let him, and Rick was startled to feel his warm, dirt-covered cheek under his fingertips. He stroked carefully, and watched as Daryl closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his face into the touch. "Fuck, I've missed you," he muttered.

"Don't leave," Rick murmured back. He didn't mean to. He hadn't intended to speak at all, but he just couldn't stop himself.

Daryl's eyes snapped open. "I'm not, Rick. I won't ever leave you again."

Rick gave him a melancholy smile. "I wish that were true," he whispered.

Daryl blinked, his face confused, when his expression changed. "Oh, shit. I forgot. Beth said you gotta drink a lotta water, and some broth, ok? Here."

Daryl handed him a glass of water, and then he set to work opening a can of broth. Rick was surprised again when he could feel the glass in his hand. Wouldn't an imaginary person hand him an imaginary glass?

Deciding to worry about it later, Rick put the glass to his mouth and drank. And drank.

Daryl finally had to pull it away from him. "Yer gonna make yourself sick."

Rick didn't protest. He just watched the man as he carefully poured some broth into the bowl, and then handed it to Rick.

Rick drank it slowly, and afterwards, Daryl laid back down next to him again. His arms wrapped around Rick tightly.

Rick was asleep within moments.

When he awoke again, he was alone. _Fuck. No._

He'd been afraid this would happen. He shouldn't have closed his eyes. Now Daryl was gone. He might never see him again.

Tears sprung to Rick's eyes at the thought, and he pulled his knees up into his chest, hugging them tightly. He cried onto his pillow, unconcerned over whether anyone could hear him or not.

He knew that Daryl wasn't real. He did. And he knew that he couldn't go around talking to people who weren't there if he was going to continue leading his group.

But that didn't make it any easier.

He _missed_ him. So fucking much. And there was a hole in his heart that he'd done his best to ignore the past six months that Merle and Carl had taken over the searches. It was the black hole of hope, and it was eating his insides up every second that he didn't have Daryl here with him, in his arms. As safe as it was possible to be.

And seeing Daryl, even if it wasn't real, blew that fucking hole open wide, and it was like he was leaving him all over again. He was pulling out of the driveway, and watching Daryl in his rearview mirror as he drove away.

Rick burrowed into himself even more as the sobs grew stronger. How was he supposed to do this alone?

Suddenly, Rick's body was enveloped in warmth as a body pressed against his back. Sure that it was his mother, Rick both wanted to pull away—he wanted to be _alone, dammit_—and to move closer to the heat of the person behind him. It was comforting to touch another person, when kindness and affection were so scarce nowadays.

And then he heard his voice, and Rick knew that he'd yet again descended into madness.

"What the fuck happened, Rick? Shit, I leave for fuckin' five minutes, and now, you're… talk to me, Rick, _please_. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong," Daryl's hoarse voice spoke softly against his ear, the words only for him.

"You're n-not real," Rick said, his breathing hitched. His crying was slowing down as he got a handle on his emotions.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, and then he was being turned onto his back, looking into the clear blue eyes of the love of his life. Some of his exhaustion had drained away, and Rick's mind caught on to the fact that he could _feel_ Daryl, could touch him, not just see him.

"I'm fuckin' real, Grimes. I'm here. I found you, and brought you back here," Daryl said slowly, his eyes on Rick's.

As he held the other man's gaze, Rick reached a hand up to stroke his palm against the rough stubble of Daryl's cheek. The man's eyes closed for just a moment at the feeling before opening again. The blue in them was fierce, and sure, and Rick felt his heart speed up.

"How? How did…" Rick started, but he didn't know how to finish. How did you find me? How did you survive? How could it have taken this long to be together again?

"I'll tell you everythin' later, after you're rested up. You're fuckin' _exhausted, _Rick; apparently you've been runnin' yourself ragged." A smile tugged at his lips, and his feature immediately softened with the look. "Lucky I'm here to look after you, now."

Rick felt his heart burst with joy. The black hole was gone now, and in its place was _this_.

Love.

Daryl saw the moment that Rick believed him. His smile grew, and he nodded, once, as if in greeting, then lowered his mouth to Rick's and kissed him.

He tasted the same as he ever did, and Rick felt joy for the first time since they were tangled up in bed together, before the shit hit the fan. He opened his mouth, and Daryl pressed his tongue in eagerly, and lowered his body to Rick's. Their chests pressed together, and Rick's arms came up to wrap around him.

The feeling wasn't enough, so Rick lowered his arms to slide his hands up Daryl's back. He could feel the familiar scars, and the warmth of the other man, and he slowly drug his fingernails down the man's sides. Daryl grunted into his mouth at the feeling, and Rick smiled against his lips.

"Fuck, Daryl," Rick said, breaking the kiss as his hands kept exploring. Daryl quickly latched onto his neck, licking and kissing there. Rick arched his back, which pressed their bodies more closely together, and he felt his breathing stutter. "I missed you so fucking much."

"Same here," Daryl muttered. Rick tugged on Daryl's shirt, trying to pull it off, but they were too close together. Daryl rose onto his elbows so that Rick had more room, and he pulled the shirt up and over Daryl's head, ruffling the man's already unkempt hair.

Rick smiled brightly at him, and Daryl just looked at him a moment before reaching for Rick's shirt as well. It was disposed of quickly, and they pressed their chests together again, reveling in the skin-on-skin contact.

"Fuck," Daryl muttered into his neck. His arms were wrapped tightly under Rick's shoulders, and Rick's were around Daryl's back again. They held onto each other for an endless moment. Rick didn't know how much time had passed. Daryl's body shuddered against him, but Rick knew he wasn't cold.

"You're not leavin' me again. Never lettin' you outta my sight," Daryl murmured, and Rick nodded against him. He was fine with that.

The comforting weight of Daryl's body on top of him slowly got heavier as the man started to doze off. Rick felt sleep edging into his own consciousness as well. The emotions of the day had worn him out even faster than usual.

He had time before he drifted off to kiss Daryl's cheek where it was pressed against his own, and breathe him in once more. And then the darkness descended.

**Please review if you have moment to let me know what you think!**


	13. We're fighting for our lives

**This one is short, again, but it wanted to end here. Don't worry, though, I've already started the next chapter. **

Chapter Thirteen—We're fighting for our lives

There was someone coming. Merle could see the line of trucks—at least five of them—from here. And they were coming towards the prison.

Fuck. The bastard had found them. "John! Get Rick and Daryl! Wake their asses up and get 'em the hell out here!" he yelled to the man by the gate.

John nodded and ran to the entrance of the prison.

Merle raised his rifle and steadied it on the low wall of the watchtower.

And then he waited.

Daryl's torso had shifted off of Rick's while they slept, but their legs were still tangled. Even in his relief at finding Rick, and at finally getting some good fucking sleep, he was still a very light sleeper. He heard someone coming before the person had even turned the corner.

He had just untangled their legs and started to sit up when a man came barreling around the corner, a shotgun in his hands. The man's eyes widened minutely at the sight of his leader and another man, shirtless together on a bed. Then he shook his head, and focused his eyes on Daryl.

"You're brother sent for you and Rick. There's someone coming. A lot of someones."

Daryl shook Rick's shoulder urgently, and shot to his feet to grab his shirt- the thing had made it across the length of the small cell. He could hear Rick grumbling behind him from having been woken so suddenly.

"Wha'? Daryl?" Rick said groggily. Daryl sat next to him again as he tugged his shirt on, then he handed Rick's to him.

"We got company, Grimes. Time to get to work," Daryl said shortly, and he saw awareness, and that damned cop mentality, take over his lover in an instant. Rick's eyes got sharp, and they narrowed as he grabbed his shirt. He pulled it on and moved to the edge of the bed after Daryl stood back up.

Rick looked at John, and nodded to him. "Get everyone together. Daryl will sort out his group, but you know what to do with ours."

John returned the nod, and ran out of the cell. Daryl turned a questioning eye to Rick. "What's that about?"

Rick pulled his boots on while Daryl did the same. "This guy, calls himself the Governor. Been lookin' for us since Merle gave 'im the slip a few months ago. Looks like he found us. We've been preparin', just in case he's lookin' for a fight."

Daryl snorted, and stood to his full height. "I'm sure we can take 'em. My group's been trained to handle guns fer months now. Even the kids can fight if they hafta."

Rick grabbed Daryl's arm before he could exit the cell. "So's mine. This is different. This guy… he's got semi-automatic weapons. Heavy artillery. And a _lot_ of people on his side."

Daryl nodded briskly, letting Rick know that he'd take the threat seriously. The men left the cell together, walking in tandem through the cellblock and down the stairs.

Everyone was gathered in the main room, right outside of the cellblock. The only ones missing were Merle, John, and Carl, who were keeping track of things outside. Rick had to talk fast.

"I know a lot of you don't know me, but I'm Rick Grimes. I've been leadin' this group for a few months now, and I'm sure y'all have people that y'all follow. I respect that. But right now, we all have to work together. A bigger threat than two separate groups in one prison is on our doorstep, and we gotta be prepared for what's comin'. Daryl tells me that you're all gun trained. That's good. So are we. We're gonna set up a perimeter around the prison, make sure the threat doesn't get in through a back way. Maggie, Glenn, and the children, you're stayin' inside."

Glenn opened his mouth to speak, but Rick held up a hand. "I know you wanna fight. And I trust you to be able to handle yourself and the others, which is why I didn't ask anyone else to stay behind with you. You and Maggie are in charge of protecting the kids if anyone gets inside."

Glenn set his jaw, his recently hacked-off arm held tightly to his side, and nodded firmly.

The truth was, Rick _did _think that Glenn could fight with one arm. But not with a gun, and guns were what he needed outside. Inside, the weapons that were more suited to one armed handling—machetes, knives—were what would be more efficient.

"Daryl is gonna tell ya'll where you should be. My group, you know what to do," Rick finished. He got a round of nods before the new people flocked towards Daryl, and everyone else dispersed.

Glenn and Maggie, who held Jude in her arms, moved to the cellblock and waited there for the children. Hershel kissed his daughter on the forehead before moving to join his group. He was ready to fight, if it meant keeping his daughter, son-in-law, and new grandson safe.

Beth, Amy, Dale, and Aiden moved to the armory to grab weapons before heading outside to their pre-assigned posts.

Daryl looked around at his group, and was met with determined stares and frightened eyes. He swept his gaze around them, and beckoned Morgan over to him.

The man joined his side, and Daryl lowered his voice. "You ready for this?"

Morgan's dark eyes narrowed. "To stay here? Yeah, I'm ready."

Daryl nodded. "Think we should back up Rick's perimeter, double up or spread out, depending on their locations. They probably got a couple in the watchtowers, so we'll stay on the ground, keep low. Sound good?"

Morgan grunted in agreement, and they turned as one to the group. "Everyone grab your weapons," Daryl said loudly enough for everyone to hear. "If you're low on ammo, load up before headin' out. The armory's got more if you need it. We're gonna stay on the ground, and you either double up Rick's perimeter, or if there's a big gap between his people, you stay there. You're top priority is to stay n your guard. Keep your eyes out for anyone tryin' to sneak through. And listen for us to call you back in. Asher, you're stayin' here with Glenna and Maggie."

"Duane, you're with me," Morgan said. "Jenny, you stay close, y'hear?" Morgan's family moved towards him as he headed for the exit, and the others followed behind them.

Daryl felt a tug on his belt, and looked down to see a furious Asher glaring up at him. "You can't leave me, Mr. Dixon! Auntie Jamie says I gotta stay in here, but I'm not! I'm not stayin' in here wit the baby! I'm fightin'!"

Daryl shook his head, and crouched down so he could meet the kid's eyes. "Need you in here to _protect_ the baby, kiddo. You think you can do that?"

Asher's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he slowly looked up at Jamie behind him, as if to gauge whether what Daryl said was the truth or not. He turned back to Daryl, his eyes beseeching. "But I wanna stay wit _you_," he whined. Daryl chuckled.

"I'll be back 'fore you know it, kiddo. In the meantime, you keep that baby safe, alright? He's little, he cant defend himself," Daryl said, and the kid nodded sullenly.

Jamie leaned down and grasped Asher's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "We'll be back soon, Asher. Now, let's go meet Glenn and Maggie. They'll wanna know who's gonna protect their son."

Before she could pull him away, Asher wrenched his hand free and lunged at Daryl, who barely caught himself from toppling over. The kid's arms wrapped around his neck, but he didn't cry. He just squeezed him once, tightly, before pulling back and retaking Jamie's hand. "Bye, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl smiled. "Bye, kiddo." Jamie led Asher away, and as Daryl's eyes followed them, he looked up to see Rick watching him. There was something there in his blue eyes that was too difficult to place from this distance.

Daryl stood up, and started towards him.

Gunshots from outside had him stopping in his tracks. Then they both ran towards the exit.

Daryl tore outside on Rick's heels, having grabbed his crossbow on the way out, his eyes searching for who the _fuck_ was shooting. His eyes landed in a tall man who stood next to the first in a line of large armored trucks. He had his gun raised. When he saw Rick stopping next to Carl, who had his gun trained on the man, he smiled.

"I thought that'd get your attention,' he said, his voice oily. Daryl sneered at him as he moved next to the Grimes men, raising his crossbow to aim exactly where Carl was.

"What d'you want?" Rick called to him, his voice tight. Daryl recognized it as his _I'm so fucking pissed off, you better have something good to say_ voice. You didn't mess with Rick when he sounded like that. He grinned.

The Governor, or whoever the fuck he was, just kept on smiling. "I've come here to give you a chance to leave this corner of Georgia. I have no intention of killin' everyone here, but I won' hesitate to do so. You have one hour to vacate this prison, and then we come in."

He finished this speech by calmly climbing back into the armored truck, and closing the door.

The people who heard this announcement looked at Rick in shock. Half the group was still spread out, but at least half were u defending the front gate. Rick just stared at the Governor, and then turned on his heel and stalked back to the prison.

"Everyone, with me!" he yelled. "Merle, Aiden, you keep your eye on this scumbag!" Everyone but the two he mentioned followed him to the entrance of the prison, just around the corner from the Governor's line of sight, but they didn't go in.

Daryl understood. He wanted to be able to act fast if the bastard reneged on what he said and started shooting.

Rick, Carl, and Daryl stood in the center of the group as the rest of their people pushed in around them. A few were still on the perimeters, but the majority were there with them.

"We gotta decide fast, so I'm only gonna ask once. Do y'all wanna stay and fight? Or do we go?" Rick said brusquely.

There was murmuring around the group, until Carl finally spoke up. "We fight. This is our home, and that bastard can't take it from us."

This pronouncement was met with a fair amount of quiet cheers. "Yeah, we can't just leave!" Tommy said, his arm around Amy.

Rick's eyes passed over each person in the small group, from Morgan and his family, to Janine and Benjamin, who stood with their hands clasped. His eyes fell on his mother, and his brother, and finally Daryl.

His eyes asked Daryl what he wanted. Daryl met his gaze, his eyes fierce. "We fight."

Rick nodded.

They were going to fight for their lives.

Daryl ran to tell Merle and the thin girl that was with him—she must have some secret weapon because his brother and Rick both acted like it was no big deal to see her in the front lines—that they were gonna fight.

Merle whooped, but Daryl quickly punched him in the arm. "Shut up, jackass!" he hissed. "They can see you!"

Merle just grinned at him.

Rick went to the people that were still on perimeter, and told them to head back in to defend the gate. When they were told that everyone wanted to stay and fight, Dale was cautious, but not argumentative. T-Dog was just determined, as was Hershel. They'd only been there a short while, but they hadn't felt this safe before, not even at the house with Morgan.

There was security in numbers.

They quickly laid out a plan, out of sight of the Governor of course. The time window was narrowing every second, and they wanted the element of surprise. Sophia, Amy, and the Jones family were sent closer to the prison, as they needed people who were better with long-range weapons. Morgan was the best in the group, and he refused to go without his wife and son, so they went with him. And, despite her freezing up when the house was overrun, Sophia was a lot calmer when she was away from the action. She wasn't too back of a shot, either.

Meanwhile, Rick sent John to take Aiden's place, as she was much more suited to hand-to-hand combat than sharpshooting. Daryl just stared at him when he mentioned that.

Rick smirked. "Just wait."

Daryl shrugged. He'd have an opportunity to find out soon enough what the girl could do.

After they were pulled off the perimeter, T-Dog and Hershel came up with the idea of confusing the Governor, and Rick latched onto it. So they grabbed Dale, and the three of them started carting bags out to the cars, as if preparing to leave the prison.

Of course, this would only work for so long. Sooner or later, the bastard and his cronies—Daryl estimated that there had to be at least thirty or so—would question why only three people were loading. As far as they could see right now, there were two people keeping watch—which was normal—and everyone else was out of sigh. The long-range shooters were ducked behind cars and other debris close to the prison.

The remaining people— Carl, Tommy, Aiden, Jamie and Sophia, along with Ben and Janine—would be leading the frontal assault behind Rick and Daryl. When the fighting started, T, Hershel, and Dale would fall back to protect the entrance with the long-range shooters.

Now they just had to fall into position.

The front line was broken into pairs, and they quickly scattered across the yard. Merle and John were yelling obscenities at the Governor and his people, keeping them distracted while the group ran fro cover.

When they had a pair stationed in each area of the yard, Rick opened his mouth the give the signal.

Daryl halted him with a hand on his arm. Rick turned to him, his mouth snapping shut, and he didn't even have a chance to ask what was wrong before Daryl was kissing him. He melted into the kiss, letting the peace of having Daryl's lips on his sink into his body, just for a moment, before the battle started.

Daryl pulled away, his eyes fierce. "You stay with me, Grimes. We're in this together."

Rick smiled at him. "Always."

Then he opened his mouth wide, and shouted.

"Now!"

**Thanks you for reading, and leave a review if you feel so inclined :)**


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